Don't You Dare
by Kittenshift17
Summary: *HIATUS* It was supposed to be just one snog under the mistletoe. They weren't supposed to want to go back for more. They weren't supposed to find themselves in bed together more often than was decent. They definitely weren't supposed to develop feelings for each other. Can they walk the fine line between love and lust whilst fighting on different sides in the war?
1. Chapter 1: Blasted Mistletoe

**Notes: **_This story was originally a one-shot called Blasted Mistletoe that I wrote as a Christmas treat, but after some careful deliberation and some interest in seeing it continued, I've edited it a little and intend to turn it into a longer story. Please note that this is a Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger centric fic and if that's not your cup of tea then this is probably not the story for you. Please also note that the rating has been changed from T to M in preparation for some of the raunchier chapters that will follow I will be sure to warn you if/when those chapters will contain more smuttiness than is found in this chapter but do take care to note that this fic will indeed contain scenes of a sexual nature and explicit language. I hope you enjoy the story and don't forgot to pop a review in the box at the bottom to tell me your thoughts._

 _xx-Kitten_

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 **Don't You Dare**

by Kittenshift17

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 **Chapter 1: Blasted Mistletoe**

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He was bloody stuck and this was getting ridiculous! What the bloody hell was wrong with this wretched castle anyway? Who decided it was okay to go hanging mistletoe all over the school? Didn't the teachers have any sense at all? A whole swath of horny teenagers on the loose and they wanted to encourage snogging in the corridors? And with Umbridge on the loose with her stupid bloody educational degrees. If he got caught trying to get free of the bloody mistletoe he'd end up in detention for breaching the rule about being within four bloody feet of a girl or whatever the stupid rule said.

Could there be anything more annoying? Anything less safe? Merlin, what if some horrible swot came along and spotted him trapped under the wretched plant? He could be bloody taken advantage of, blast it all! Salazar he hoped it wouldn't be someone dreadful like Millicent or Pansy. The last thing he wanted was to get his lips anywhere near either of those vapid vipers!

It made him ill just thinking about it. Merlin, what if Theo happened along and spotted him? The bastard had a thing for blondes and Draco knew Theo couldn't give hoot about a gender. To him a blonde was a blonde and that meant he wanted them. Boy or girl, it mattered little to Theodore Nott. The git had been trying to shag him since third year! And Theo wouldn't give a rip that Draco would rather dance naked in a barrel of eels beneath a full moon than be locking lips with another bloke!

"Bloody ridiculous!" he snarled, mostly to himself since there was no one else around to hear him cursing.

This was what he got for being lazy and trying to take a short cut via a largely unused corridor. He could be stuck here for hours, blast it all. Who hung Mistletoe in an abandoned corridor anyway? Bloody irresponsible, that's what it was. Draco would bet it was one of those ruddy Weasley twins. Trouble, the whole lot of them! They'd think it was hilarious if they spotted him right now. Draco could just imagine how the tossers would laugh at him.

Bloody hell he was tired of this nonsense. He'd been standing there under the mistletoe for nigh on four hours and it was driving him bonkers. He'd missed lunch, and all his afternoon classes. All he needed now was for no one to come along until after dinner and he'd be completely screwed. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the bloody cake? His stomach was cramping with hunger and he'd had enough. He was entirely over this entire stupid holiday season. What were these pathetic traditions for anyway?

He'd bet a mudblood was to blame for there being the mistletoe tradition in the wizarding world. No self-respecting wizard would ever willingly subject himself to being magically ensnared under a bundle of twigs until someone snogged him. Whichever dolt had thought to charm the ruddy plant was currently the top of Draco's hit list. Probably those bloody Weasley twins. He'd never had to deal with this kind of mess in the past. Maybe his parents just weren't fool enough to think it would be funny to actually trap people into snogging someone.

But all of that was beside the point. The point, he thought sullenly, was that it was edging towards the stage where Draco supposed that if he had to, he would snog just about anyone to get himself out of this mess. Even bloody Theodore Nott. Merlin, at this stage Draco would snog the fucking Mudblood if it would get him out from under the awful plant currently holding him hostage.

His stomach was rumbling, he was getting a cramp in his calf muscle and he was too bloody proud to sit on the floor in the middle of the corridor whilst waiting to be discovered. He imagined the only thing worse than being found trapped under some sodding mistletoe would be to have lowered himself so much as to appear beaten by the plant by requiring he sit as he waited. His friends would never let him hear the end of it and to make matters worse the utter indignity would get back to his father. Draco shuddered at the very idea of having his father know he'd fallen victim to a bleeding plant.

The shuffling sound of footsteps seemed almost alien in his ears after being trapped with nothing but his own thoughts for hours. Draco opened his mouth, intending to draw attention to himself and so be freed from his current torment but before he could utter even a single decibel of sound, the words died on his tongue.

Of all the bleeding luck!

Draco's day officially couldn't get any worse.

He was going to find the Fates one day and when he did he was going to screw those bitches over so fucking hard they'd never mess with his life ever again! The sight of his potential saviour was almost enough to turn his stomach. It just had to be fucking _her!_ Of course it did. Was there no bloody justice in the world?

He supposed this was karma. That's what his mother would tell him. That all his bad deeds were coming back to bite him in the arse. And Draco supposed it must be true. What other reason could there be for the fact that the one witch in the entire castle he'd been the biggest prat to was going to be the one he'd have to snog if he wanted out from under the enchantment currently binding him to the floor?

He wondered if it could be considered lucky that she was wandering along with her nose stuck in yet another sodding book. At least that way she couldn't see him. And her not seeing him was currently working in his favour. Draco didn't doubt that if she spotted him before she could become trapped under the mistletoe as well, she would turn on her heels and walk the other way, leaving him to his rotten fate.

But Draco wasn't so foolish as to call for her attention.

He simply watched her stroll slowly closer. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a messy knot atop her head that made her look like a bloody pigeon. Her uniform skirt and blouse were crumpled from the day studying. If he had to guess she was most likely on her way back to Gryffindor Tower from her final class of the day – Arithmancy. He only knew it was her final class because he was taking all the same subjects.

Draco wished he could say he did so purely by coincidence, but it would be a lie. He took all the same classes because his father insisted that he make it his mission to best her academically. And he couldn't do that if he wasn't taking as many classes. But that wasn't the point either.

The point was, he was stuck and loathe as he was to admit it; she was the answer to his current problem.

She clearly knew the route to Gryffindor Tower by heart. This must be her usual stomping ground, for she didn't even lift her head to look where she was going. And so Draco stayed quiet. Like a hawk watches its prey, Draco tracked her movements with his eyes. She was heading right for him and he wasn't about to move even a muscle – not even to breathe – as she came within range of the mistletoe's ensnarement.

She squeaked like a surprised mouse when she bumped right into him and Draco's hands snatched at her before she could crash to the floor. He did so mostly to keep his own balance, but also because he needed to put her in a decent enough mood to get away with snogging her for his freedom.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" she began, flustered and apologetic until she looked up and realised it was him.

Her eyes widened in horror as she spotted him and Draco felt very much like a viper with a timid mouse in his coils as a feral smirk spread across his face. The cinnamon scent of her skin encircled him, clogging his sense with it and he hated the way the scent of her made him hungry.

"Malfoy? What do you think you're doing? Let go of me this instant!" she demanded, immediately going on the offensive when she realised who she'd just crashed into. Her dark eyes flashed with fury, hatred glittering in the muddy pools and making him all the more certain that his plan was his current best hope for getting out from under the blasted mistletoe

"You really ought to watch where you're going, Granger," he cautioned her coldly, glaring into her upturned face hatefully and feeling the need to spit venom just the same way she did. Merlin, but she smelled fantastic! How had he never noticed that before?

Before she could gather her wits or even begin to realise what he might be doing, Draco released his grip on her arms. He curled his hands about her delicate jaw, tilted her head just right and planted his lips hungrily on hers.

She wriggled immediately in his hold, making a noise of horrified protest, but Draco merely used the situation to his advantage. After all, if he was going to lower himself to the loathsome task of snogging a mudblood it had better be bloody worth it. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, Draco snogged her soundly, keeping his eyes firmly shut in the hopes of pretending she was someone else.

He almost fell for the delusion too when the little swot snogged him back. She seemed hesitant at first, her tongue timid and unsure against his own. When he nipped her bottom lip however, she forgot her timidity. Draco hated himself a little for the rush of surprise and desire that washed through him when she threw a little of her formidable temper into the task.

Before he knew it, he had the mudblood's hands running through his hair, tauntingly grasping at the fine blonde strands and making him crazy. She snogged him back as though they were long lost lovers rather than sworn enemies and Draco felt a cruel smile curl across his face to learn the fiery little chit had some skill. She tasted of something sugary and sweet like Pepper Imps, he noted, hating how the taste of her mouth and the scent of her skin made him hungry for more of her. Unable to resist the challenge when she tugged furiously on his hair, Draco snogged her harder, his hands going to her small waist and pulling her petite body against the length of his.

The feel of the mistletoe scattering on top of their heads as its magic was spent didn't distract him from the feel of her flesh beneath his lips and his hands. The scratch of twigs against his skin was but a mere distraction from the feel of her nails digging enticingly against his neck, urging him on. When he felt his heart begin to race inside his chest and goosepimples spread across his skin, Draco realised this was fast becoming a problem, rather than just a solution to his ensnarement trouble. How dare she spark any kind of reaction from him other that hatred and disdain?

No Mudblood should be able to make his heart race. No mudblood should be able to make him feel anything other than disgust. No mudblood had a right to snog so bloody well!

When he caught himself pressing her into a wall, his hands pulling at the fabric of her shirt and desperately trying to reach the flesh beneath it, he knew he was in over his head. That much was clear when he felt her grasping his hair with one hand while the other delved beneath the hem of his shirt, her nails slicing into his back as though she was as barmy for it as he was. Merlin he needed to pull away from her. Who the bleeding hell had taught her to snog so well? Her tongue tangled with his expertly. Stroking. Caressing. Suckling. Making him crazy.

Fuck!

Draco tore himself away from her with a growl of pure frustration.

His breathing was ragged and uneven when he glared at her, holding her at arm's length to keep her from luring him back in for another wild snog. She levelled him a nasty look as she too fought to catch her breath.

"What the bloody hell was that?" she growled furiously.

"Fucking mistletoe," Draco retorted, releasing his hold on her and hating the amount of reluctance he felt to do so. He brushed his hands at the twigs he didn't doubt had become trapped in his collar.

"You've been trapped under mistletoe for hours?" she laughed harshly and Draco thought seriously about shoving her hard into the wall and snogging her until she couldn't think straight. How dare she scoff at him?

Choosing not to answer her, Draco dragged the back of his hand against his mouth, trying desperately to get the taste of her out of his mouth. Merlin, he felt sick to his stomach. He'd just snogged a flipping mudblood! His father would disown him. Salazar, Lucius might even murder him for this. Draco's mind began to scramble as the reality of what he'd just done began to kick in. He'd snogged a mudblood. Why didn't he just sign his own death certificate while he was at it?

"Nothing happened, you hear me?" he growled, taking a threatening step closer to her, his mind jumping to the only logical way to suppress this particular blunder. If he could intimidate her into keeping her trap shut, everything would be fine and he could chalk this up to merely an unfortunate series of circumstances.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and Draco found his eyes drawn to them, recalling what she could do with them with startling clarity. Bloody Hell, if she weren't a sodding mudblood he'd snog her until he couldn't see straight.

"Nothing fucking happened! None of this. It didn't happen. You got that, Granger?" he snapped, trying to focus back on the task at hand to make sure this wouldn't get out. He'd be ruined if anyone found out he'd snogged her.

"Do you imagine I'm relishing the idea of blabbing to anyone that I've been assaulted by an enormous prat like you?" she retorted scathingly, her eyes narrowed to hateful slits, "Are you so deluded that you actually believe I'm ever going to mention to anyone what you just did? I'd die of shame!"

"Shame?" he snarled, furious with her reaction, "You dare to stand there and suggest you're ashamed that I lowered myself to something so disgusting as mudblood scum like you?"

"I do wish you were a little more creative," she spat nastily, her brown eyes flashing dangerously, "Do you actually think, after all this time, that I care what you think of me? Do you think being called a mudblood by you is an insult? If being pureblood means I have to be a rotten, no-good bastard like you and your family, then I'll take my supposedly dirty blood any day."

She shoved both hands hard against his chest, forcing him back and leaving him thunderstruck. How dare she act so superior to him? How dare she lay a filthy fucking finger on him?

"You better not fucking tell anyone!" he snarled after her.

"I'd rather die," she replied without even deigning to look over her shoulder at him and Draco thought very seriously about cursing her for her insolence.

"Nothing ever happened, you fucking hear me Granger?" he shouted as she stomped away.

When she flipped him the bird in reply Draco cursed foully, spinning on his heels and stalking the other way in furious disgust.

Merlin cursed fucking Mudblood! Fucking mistletoe! Sod Christmas all to hell!


	2. Chapter 2: Green Monster

**A/N: My sweet Cherubs! You're all so darling for posting me so many lovely reviews. What did you think of Draco in chapter one? Isn't he just the most arrogant little snot you've ever encountered? I hope you enjoy this next chapter, don't forget to pop a review at the bottom with your thoughts and never hesitate to thrown in ideas, headcanons and other tidbits you'd like to see included, I love working those things into my plot-line. Much Love! xx-Kitten**

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 **Don't You Dare**

By Kittenshift17

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 **Chapter 2: Green Monster**

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Hermione Granger was still cursing under her breath about the horror that had transpired a week ago in that deserted corridor with Draco Malfoy. The elves, in an attempt to capture the spirit of Christmas before all the students left for the holidays, had been hanging mistletoe all over the place alongside all the other Christmas decorations. She still felt ill from the feel of Draco Malfoy's lips crashing against hers.

More to the point, she was utterly furious. How dare he assault her like that? She could, of course, logically reason that he'd missed many of his afternoon classes and had clearly been trapped under that mistletoe for some time before she happened along. She was also capable of noting that having crashed into him whilst he was trapped under it had simultaneously trapped her too. Logically, snogging him – or rather, being assault by him – was the only route to freedom

Hermione knew all of those things.

What she could not, for the life of her, understand was that he'd snogged her so furiously and so passionately. Nor could she rationalise having returned the heated assault with such fervour. She felt absolutely no attraction whatsoever to Draco Malfoy. He was a slimy git and entirely too pompous and full of his own puffed up sense of entitlement. He was a dreadful little cockroach and she utterly despised him, if she was being honest.

Oh there had been a time when she'd thought to give him the benefit of the doubt – when she rationalised that he'd been raised by prejudiced bigots and so had little choice but to also be a flaming bigoted ferret-face son of a bitch. Having encountered Lucius Malfoy, Hermione had even – in previous years – pitied Malfoy a little for having such a terrible father and role model. How could anyone be expected to turn out well with that kind of person as their only source of what a wizard should be during his developmental years?

That, however, had been before this year.

Hermione loathed the boy. There was no other way to put it. She loathed him so much it gave her energy. Encountering his sneering face in the halls or hearing his snarky cat-calls and taunts was enough to drive her to do better. To be better than him. To work even harder and make it clear just how wrong he was about muggle-borns being supposedly inferior.

And yet… she knew she was as guilty as him of being invested in that snog last week. She knew she'd tangled her hands in his hair and snogged him in return. She couldn't honesty describe what it was that had caused her to do so. She didn't at all fancy him and had been utterly repulsed by the idea of snogging him. Yet, she'd done so as though he were her long lost lover and vice versa.

She couldn't honestly say what had caused her to do it. Yes, she'd already been snogging him thanks to his assault designed to free them from beneath the mistletoe. But that didn't mean she'd had to let him manhandle her against the wall. Admittedly, it had been quite some time since she'd been snogged. Not since she'd broken things of with Viktor, in fact. They were still friends, of course, but after having visited him in Bulgaria in the summer before fifth year had begun, and having tried the long distance thing for a month or two afterwards, they'd both agreed that it was pointless to pursue a relationship when she was still so young and he was an international Quidditch star.

She'd not snogged anyone in months before Malfoy had come along, upsetting the applecart. Hermione was still positively seething over his assault. How dare he use her to his own ends and then have the gall to demand she not tell a soul what he'd done. Not that she entirely blamed him for that. She didn't want it getting out any more than he did that they'd snogged.

She'd be ruined!

She could just imagine the aghast expressions Harry and Ron would wear. Not to mention the fact that with Umbridge breathing down their necks and all these new educational decrees about not fornicating in the corridors – or anywhere else, for that matter – there was the possibility of real trouble if anyone ever found out. And that didn't even begin to cover the undeniable shame she would feel if anyone ever learned she'd locked lips with the likes of anyone as vile as Malfoy.

The entire week, she'd avoided him. Unfortunately they had several shared classes, and given his involvement in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, avoidance wasn't entirely fool-proof. But she felt she deserve points for her valiant efforts to keep as far from the ferrety little git as possible. Being that they were in the same classes, however, made it impossible to avoid him totally. Just as they were now sharing a Potions classroom.

Snape was in a particularly vile mood this morning – no doubt thanks to the way Umbridge was driving everyone bonkers. Hermione wished one of the teachers would just turn on the toady old cow and be done with it. Snape could do it. She didn't doubt he'd killed before. For the greater good, even. She wondered idly what it said about her that she was wishing death upon another human being. At least one who wasn't Malfoy.

His stupid Apple Bites taste was still in her mouth and the citrusy scent of the cologne he bathed in still seemed to linger in her nose. She loathed him for that too. She'd thoroughly brushed her teeth and washed her mouth out before taking a soapy bath trying to rid herself of the essence of Malfoy after his assault last week. And none of it had seemed to help. It was like she could still feel the ghost of his lips on hers. Her waist still tingled from the way he'd caressed her flesh, gripping her tightly and crushing her to him desperately.

Hermione snorted at her own thoughts. Desperate was a good word to describe Malfoy. He was a desperate little toe-rag who'd thrown himself at a mudblood.

"Something amusing you'd like to share with the class, Miss Granger?" Snape hissed and Hermione jumped to realise he was behind her as she was working on her Calming Draught. He was in a right foul mood and Hermione was less than pleased by his singling her out. She didn't doubt she would lose house points with him in this type of mood.

Across the dungeon classroom Malfoy and his goons looked positively delighted at the prospect of her looming humiliation. Harry tensed beside her and Hermione desperately wanted to kick him under the table to make sure he stayed out of it.

"Just a poorly concealed sneeze, sir," Hermione offered weakly looking up at him as he swooped around her cauldron. He quirked an eyebrow at her obvious lie and Hermione held her breath waiting for him to call her on it. She nearly keeled over in shock when he didn't say anything else as she wiped her nose for good measure as though she had actually sneezed.

He glared down his hooked nose at her for several seconds, his eyes flicking to her potion. Hermione waited for him to tell her it wasn't quite periwinkle in colour yet, but he didn't comment before stalking away and rounding on a Hufflepuff student – who actually squeaked in fear and dropped a large clump of horseradish root into her potion whole.

"Detention, Miss Vaisey," Snape hissed, using his wand to remove to ingredient before it could cause the potion to explode. He seemed to positively beam when the poor mousy haired girl burst into tears and threw herself down on her desk – her potion ruined and her humiliation apparently complete.

Across the room Hermione heard Malfoy and the other Slytherins hissing and taunting her, laughing at the girl's misfortune. Surreptitiously, whilst Snape's back was turned as he was busied with making sure the spoiled potion didn't find it's way into the wrong hands or cause further damage to the already interrupted class, Hermione wiggled her pinky finger in the direction of the Slytherins, whispering hexes.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Ron, Hermione had been doing a little extracurricular study on the practical application of semi-wandless magic. Something she'd learned to achieve with the aid of a magic-infused ring she'd bought for herself earlier in the year while she was in Bulgaria visiting with Viktor. In Bulgaria the market places were less regulated, as were wand makers and other such businesses.

Wanting to compare to the wand-quality between how Gregorovitch and Ollivander made wands, Hermione had strolled into the shop and been looking around keenly. A wizened old wizard – Gregorovitch – had spotted her and asked what she wanted since she was clearly already old enough to have her own wand. She'd quizzed the wand maker on the uses of other magical items in lieu of a wand and she hadn't been disappointed.

He'd informed her of a secret new method he'd been trying that involved the use of a back-up system should one be relieved of their wand. Hermione had been positively delighted when he'd shared with her that he'd invented a type of ring to be worn inconspicuously that would serve in lieu of a wand, just as she'd hoped.

Hermione had convinced him to part with one.

It was almost the length of her pinky finger, and looped around and around the flesh in a tangle of vine-like coils, gnarled, thorned and somewhat creepy to look at. The one he'd given her had been crafted from petrified bramblewood and its core contained a length of unicorn hair. It was somewhat more dangerous than her vinewood and dragon heart-string wand, due to the volatile nature of the core and the otherwise untested wood. When she'd returned wearing it, Hermione knew that both Harry and Ron thought it ugly, though they hadn't commented when she'd shown up wearing it during the summer when she'd gone to the Burrow and then Order Headquarters.

Hermione actually preferred it that way. If people thought it ugly they weren't likely to steal it. She was able to wear it every day with little concern from people thinking her armed and no concern over the idea that anyone would realise what it was. After all, the ring was not designed to shoot magic from its end like a regular wand. It was simply another tool to focus her magic to the area and to aid the expulsion of the magic from her body. She'd been in contact with Gregorovitch all year about its progress.

She'd only recently managed to begin playing with some hexes above those learned in third year, but that was of little consequence, she decided, as she hit Crabbe with a Jelly-Legs jinx. She caught Goyle with a Leg-Locker curse next, watching with some amusement as his legs snapped together before he toppled over.

Snape's head shot up at the cry of shock from both boys as they toppled their cauldrons and Hermione felt a stab of glee when some of Goyle's catastrophe spilled on Malfoy, no doubt scalding his skin from the way he cried out in pain. Snape's eyes whipped around the room, clearly searching for someone with their wand out or someone trying to hastily stash their wand so as not to be caught.

Hermione saw his eyes land on her, Harry and Ron before narrowing dangerously. Affecting her best bewildered and surprised expression, Hermione returned the look, not at all worried about being caught. She'd done this before, after all. All year she'd been practicing on those two oafs, causing them to bumble more things than she cared to admit. She simply was more targeted and more prone to striking out in annoyance this year. Umbridge was driving everybody batty – and Harry had been being a right foul git. Ron was also complaining about Harry's moods, his homework or Quidditch when he wasn't plotting for the DA and Hermione had been left to find her own means of stress relief.

She was ashamed to say she took it out on her peers, but those gits deserved it.

"Who cast the jinxes?" Snape demanded in a soft, deadly voice, waving his wand to perform the counter-curses to both jinxes she'd used. Malfoy was whimpering in pain from the burn he'd receive, though Goyle must've been doing alright, because the blonde ferret seemed calm about his injury.

"Potter?" Snape hissed.

"It wasn't me, sir," Harry protested. Hermione knew Snape knew it was the truth because Harry was still in the process of using both hands to slice shrivelfig roots.

"No one had their wands out, sir," Ernie McMillan piped up from a few tables over.

"Macmillan," Snape sneered, "And you know this how? Too busy being a pompous snot and pretending to lord it over my classroom while I'm distracted rather than focusing on your potion?"

Ernie looked affronted and properly scolded, his cheeks turning red.

"Very well," Snape purred when everyone continued to look bewildered, "If no one will own up to it, you will all be serving detention."

The class collectively groaned and Hermione frowned.

"That hardly seems fair, sir," she spoke up, "They probably did it to each other. Those two idiots are always goofing off in class."

Snape fixed his black eyed upon her and Hermione quivered just the tiniest bit.

"Miss Granger," he purred dangerously, stalking towards her slowly.

"It's true, sir," Lisa Turpin spoke up from the Ravenclaw table, "This isn't the first class where those two have ended up conspicuously jinxed into disrupting the class. In charms last week Goyle was hit with a Tickling charm and Crabbe got hit with a Petrificus Totalus."

"Yeah," Justin Finch-Fletchley piped up, "Those two are always messing around with their wands. It's obvious that it's them doing it to each other too. The spells are much too basic to be coming from anyone else in this class. They're always first or second-year hexes. Two weeks ago in Transfiguration Goyle got hit with that dancing jinx that makes you tap dance and Crabbe sprouted antlers."

Snape was glaring evilly around the room, either suspicious of the notion that everyone – people who weren't even considered to be close friends – were defending the notion or bewildered by the way each of the other students piping up with utterances of agreement clearly believed it was the truth. Hermione hid her smile as best she could, unable to resist glancing in the direction where Crabbe and Goyle were both flushed with embarrassment at being accused of being so stupid.

"I think it's those two dunderheads trying to practice for that duelling club rumoured to be getting by Umbridge," Susan Bones inserted into the conversation, "Everyone's been muttering about her being on the hunt for whoever the perpetrators are but she's obviously been questioning the wrong students. The guilty parties are clearly among her precious Inquisitorial Squad. Why else would they be hexing each other in class?"

Hermione had to scratch her nose to hide her grin at the very idea of so many of the other students standing up against the Slytherins like this. The whole thing was playing out better than she'd dared to hope. She'd never imagined everyone would point fingers at the victims and blame them for their own thickheadedness. She'd just enjoyed having someone to practice silly hexes on with her newest study tool.

Snape was levelling a glare around the class.

"It's not us, sir," Goyle grunted, his knuckle cracking threateningly at everyone who'd spoken up and a glare fixed on Hermione for bringing up the idea.

"Who else could it be?" Ron rolled his eyes, "No one else is thick enough to use first years spells on their classmates. I've noticed a gradual increase in the difficulty of each hex every week. You two finally knuckling down and trying to learn the basics with OWLs approaching?"

Ron was positively gleeful as he sneered at them and everyone laughed when Crabbe took a threatening step towards them.

"Crabbe, Goyle, detention with me tonight. Everyone leave a sample on my desk of the Calming Draught. Miss Granger, see me after class,"

Hermione felt her stomach twist uncomfortably even as she took out a phial and siphoned some of her potion into it, walking up and placing it on Snape's desk to be marked. Harry and Ron shot her sympathetic looks as they all packed up their things.

"We'll wait for you outside," Ron promised her as everyone began filing out of the classroom on the way to lunch. Hermione nodded, she waited until everyone was gone, or at least everyone except Malfoy – whom Professor Snape was handing a jar of burn salve to.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Hermione asked primly, knowing Snape wasn't going to send Malfoy away. Especially since Malfoy was in the process of using the burn salve. She tried not to look when he hiked up the hem of his shirt to reveal washboard abs with a nasty looking scarlet burn on them. He hissed between clenched teeth as he smeared the salve on it.

Hermione blushed at seeing so much of his skin and seeing some of what Draco Malfoy had going on under his robes. She'd felt how taut his body was last week when he'd pinned her to the wall and snogged her. She also recalled, with dreadful clarity, the way she'd stuck her hands under his jumper, her nails cutting into his hips and his back as she'd clawed at him, trying to pull him closer.

As she moved towards Snape, Malfoy twisted a little, trying to reach the part where the burn had spread over his right side and Hermione felt a jolt of surprise to see he still had the faded marks on his hip from where she'd clawed him. She blushed crimson when she realised she was staring. Malfoy was too busy healing himself to notice, but Snape certainly wasn't. The knowing smirk on his lips tormented her.

"You insinuated two students were stupid, Miss Granger," Snape told her coldly, "Prompting the rest of the class to agree with you."

"Actually, sir," Hermione found herself saying, too distracted by Malfoy to think properly, "I called them idiots. It's hardly my fault that the truth of my accusation was corroborated by so many others."

"You hexed them, didn't you?" Snape asked.

"I would never hex another student without strong provocation, sir," Hermione gasped, feigning outrage.

"Liar," Malfoy piped up, still twisting awkwardly, "You've hexed me plenty of times."

"The mere sight of _you_ is provocation enough," Hermione retorted coldly – the first words she'd spoken directly to him since _the incident_.

"I find, Miss Grnager, that you are being harshly unfair towards your peers," Snape purred, looking satisfied by the way she'd risen to the bait. Hermione was too busy eyeing Malfoy's exposed midriff to even look at him while he gloated.

"You mean to punish me for telling the truth?" Hermione replied, forgetting her manners, "And here I thought it was only the High Inquisitor who was so barbaric."

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth when Snape's expression darkened, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape hissed at her. Malfoy paused in his self-medication to smirk cruelly at her and Hermione hoped he believed that she was blushing over what she'd just said to a teacher rather than over the idea of being caught eyeing him like he was a piece of meat.

"Now, tell me the truth, Miss Granger, did you hex Crabbe and Goyle?"

"No sir," Hermione lied, "My wand is in the bottom of my bag. There's no way I'd have been able to dig it out and put it back without you noticing. I was focusing on making sure I got my potion right… it was a little off-colour you see, and I was trying to work out why it was more an azure shade than the recommended periwinkle…. I think I might've accidentally added an extra drop of essence of eucalyptus…"

Hermione watched the way his sneer grew as she pretended to babble about her supposed distraction over the shade of her potion. She _knew_ she'd accidentally added one drop too many. Harry had bumped her and caused her to. She also knew that if she babbled long enough about what she might've done wrong and about their studies in general, Snape would dismiss her. He hated it when she babbled.

"So you did not curse Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Honestly, sir?" Hermione asked, and he narrowed his eyes on her, "If there comes a time when I do hex either of those dunderheaded buffoons, I can assure you I will use something far more embarrassing and far less friendly than first year jinxes."

Hermione stared him down defiantly, keeping her eyes locked on the professor so as to avoid further embarrassing herself by eyeing Malfoy's naked abs again. Snape seemed to consider her carefully for a long moment and Hermione wondered if he believed her.

"Miss Granger, what is this?" Snape asked, reaching for her arm and lifting her hand. The one with her magical pinky-ring on it.

"A reminder, sir," Hermione replied evenly, catching the way Malfoy looked over in interest, temporarily forgetting that he was showing off his stomach, "A reminder that even the most skilled bramble-berry picker can become tangled among the thorns."

Snape eyed her shrewdly and Hermione didn't doubt the Order of the Phoenix spy was aware there was far more to the words that the most literal take on them. It was a tool. A reminder that if things ever went sour and she found herself without her wand, she would still be able to use her magic. No one else knew of course. No one was aware she'd gone to Bulgaria in the summer. No one knew she was in correspondence with Gregorovitch. She never signed her name on the letters and she'd always made sure to alter her usual handwriting so as not to be detected – knowing all mail was being screened.

In fact, she only ever alluded to her findings with the talisman.

"Get out of my sight," Snape hissed finally, tossing her hand away from himself and returning his attention to Malfoy. Hermione glanced at the blonde ferrety git one more time, hating herself a little for the way her body tingled at the sight of the marks she'd left on him last week. Hating the way her lips tingled as though she wouldn't mind snogging him again.

She gathered her things quickly and exited the classroom, knowing that Harry and Ron would be waiting for her. Indeed, she found them in the corridor outside the classroom, both of them looking very uncomfortable.

"Harry?" Hermione asked when they didn't greet her. They were looking in different directions, standing awkwardly next to each other in the hall.

"Ron, is everything alright?" she asked, approaching them in confusion.

"Oh… Hermione, hi," Ron said, his ears turning red, "How'd you go in there?"

"Fine," Hermione shrugged, "He took ten points for my cheek and accused me of spurring a tide of bullying aimed at Crabbe and Goyle. Can you believe it? As though those two blithering idiots aren't the uno and duo bully boy for the school's largest ferret."

"Right, right," Harry muttered, also blushing and looking away.

"What is the matter with you two?" she asked, noticing they made no move to head off up to lunch or to agree with her as she insulted Malfoy and his cronies.

"Well erm…" Ron began.

"Granger did I just hear you calling me a ferret? Better watch it, mudblood, or I might give you detention," Malfoy's voice drawled from behind her and Hermione stopped dead, turning to face him and finding him swaggering into the corridor, "Oooh and what do we have here? Potty and his boyfriend Weaselbee trapped under the mistletoe together!"

Malfoy crowed with exultation at the sight and Hermione spun back to her friends glancing above their heads and spotting that there was indeed a large bushel of mistletoe sprouting above their heads. Oh, no wonder they looked so uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't hold back her giggle.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron snapped, his ears going red again, "Why don't you just piss off and have cronies suck your cock again?"

Hermione's eyes widened at Ron's language.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your vulgarity and language, Weaselbee," Malfoy practically purred, always ready to abuse his power on the Inquisitorial Squad.

"Don't you have anything better to do that torment people trapped under mistletoe Malfoy?" Hermione asked, turning to face him once more, "I'd have thought you'd be running scared that you'd be ensnared."

She knew from the look on his face that they both heard the silent and unstated ' _again'._ He narrowed his eyes on her dangerously and Hermione smirked cruelly at him, enjoying the power she had over him. She didn't want it getting out that she'd snogged him, but he wanted it even less and she wasn't afraid to use that to her advantage.

"I'd rather see Potty and Weaselbee snogging so I can tell everyone. Unless you'd care to oblige them and set them free? If you're not too much of a prude," Malfoy replied in a drawl and Hermione saw the challenge in his eyes. Daring her to help them from under the mistletoe liked she'd been forced to help him.

Glaring at him for a long minute in silent fury Hermione decided that one of these days she was going to rejoice at the sight of him being maimed before she spun around and marched over to her friends where they were trapped under the mistletoe. Harry blinked at her in shock when she put her hands on the tops of his shoulders, leaned in and kissed him on the lips for a few smooching seconds. Before he could recover Hermione turned to Ron.

She did the same to him, holding the tops of his shoulders for balance and having to go up on her toes a bit because he was much taller than she was this year – having hit another growth spurt. Ron had the presence of mind to clutch at her waist as she kissed him too. She smiled triumphantly when the mistletoe overhead fell apart as the magic was spent, indicating they could go free.

Ron looked slightly dazed when she pulled back from kissing him.

"Disgusting," Malfoy announced, still watching them and looking like he might vomit, "Molested by a filthy mudblood! I'd file a complaint with the Headmaster if I was either of you unfortunate idiots."

Hermione spun back on him, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

"Oh shove off, Malfoy," Harry sighed, looking annoyed with the Slytherin git and mildly befuddled and uncomfortable about having kissed her. Hermione called it kissing because unlike when she'd been assaulted by Malfoy, she'd kept her tongue securely inside her mouth. Tongue-kissing was snogging. And she hadn't snogged Harry or Ron. Though Ron kind of looked like he wouldn't mind.

"It will be more points from Gryffindor for this blatant flouting of that newest educational decree about boys and girls keeping their distance," Malfoy clucked his tongue, his eyes still fixed on Hermione's face hatefully while Hermione glared at him.

"Let's see Granger, it will be ten from you for snogging two blokes within moments of each other and another ten for being a mudblood. Potter five from you for candoodling with a Mudblood. Weasely, ten from you for liking it."

"You can't…" Ron protested furiously, taking a menacing step forwards before he seemed to realise what Malfoy had accused him off.

"Don't worry about it boys," Hermione told Harry and Ron, still glaring at Malfoy, "Malfoy's just jealous because no one ever _willingly_ snogged him."


	3. Chapter 3: Making Excuses

**WARNINGS:** _This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature and the use of profanity. Also, Draco is a git. And it's a 8000 words chapter._

 ** _A/N: Also thanks for being such darlings and being so forthcoming with reviews. They mean the world to me. Tell me what you think of Hermione's sass in the last chapter. I can't wait to see what you think of the naughtiness in this one! Much love! xx-Kitten._**

* * *

 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Making Excuses**

* * *

One of these days Draco was going to bloody hex her for real! Merlin curse that jumped-up Mudblood. He'd been avoiding her every chance he got since _the incident_. That's how he was thinking about it. Like some highly classified and terribly secret occurrence that he couldn't even think the name of without jeopardising himself or others. For two weeks now he'd been avoiding the bitch – or doing his best to.

At first he'd been terrified that she wasn't going to keep her word. That she would blab about him snogging her. But then she'd acted as though he didn't exist. No, worse than that. The jumped-up little acted as she had always done when he was around, indifferent and as though he was the slime under her shoes. And after she'd left marks on him too, blast it all. Just who the hell did she think she was? Where did she get off acting like he wasn't the only bloke to have ever snogged her in her miserable little mudblood life?

Surely no one else had stooped so low. At least, not until he'd dared her to snog Potty and Weaselbee when they'd been trapped the other day. He'd been hoping for moral outrage from her and a suggestion to fetch girls more appropriate to be kissing both gits. He certainly hadn't expected her to glare at him hatefully and then snog both tossers. He also hadn't expected the resounding roar of fury he felt from the beast living inside his chest, roaring over the idea of her snogging just any old one under the mistletoe.

Not that he wanted to be special.

Or that he fancied her.

He just…. He'd never been snogged so bloody well in his life and if he was being honest he kind of wanted to be the only one to ever snog her like that. Though she hadn't exactly been forthcoming with the fiery passion she'd showed to him when she was instead rescuing her dunderheaded boyfriends. And then the bitch had had the nerve to accuse him of forcing himself on her and implying no one would ever be interested in snogging him without being forced or incentivised to do so.

That had griped his hippogriffs.

He'd probably been the best damn snog of her life and she was going to complain that she hadn't wanted to participate? Well it wasn't like he'd bloody wanted to either. It was simply a necessity. One that he couldn't seem to fucking forget. It had been driving him spare. He dreamed about snogging her, shoving her violently against that wall where he'd pinned her and ravishing the little twit. He'd awoken every morning for the past two weeks with his todger standing at attention and eager to have another go at her.

A real go, this time.

He'd been taking icy showers every fucking morning just to get the snake in his trousers to bloody cooperate. And it was fucking winter. In bloody Scotland. And he lived in the freezing bloody dungeons. It was beyond nauseating. He was disgusted with himself. He'd also felt like a twelve year old again when he'd awoken that very morning to sticky pyjamas after a particularly vivid dream featuring that little whore of a mudblood, a secluded broom cupboard and the hardest fuck of his young life.

He was no simpering virgin, after all. He'd been fucking Pansy since he was thirteen and he'd fucked a few of the other Slytherin girls too, when they all got too drunk at the parties they threw whenever he managed to catch the snitch in a quidditch match. He was right sick of dreaming about Granger. She was a filthy mudblood, for fuck's sake!

More to the point, he was a pureblood and purebloods did not lower themselves to ever lie with mudbloods. It was bad enough he'd been driven to snog her that evening because of that fucking mistletoe. He'd been incinerating any he spotted since then before he could be ensnared. He was always on the lookout for it.

To makes matters worse, things had gotten out of hand the other day and he'd resorted to seeking out Daphne Greengrass for a snog, which had turned into a shag, and it had been bloody awful. And that was saying something because usually Daph was a bloody good lay. She was discreet about it too, knowing that Pansy had been mooning after him for years and was also a vicious cow who would ruin her if she found out Draco was sleeping around. Not that he'd made any commitments to the likes of Pansy.

She was his fall-back swot. Whenever he struck out elsewhere of simply didn't want to go to any effort at all to get laid, he went to Pansy. He always fucking regretted it too. She was a shoddy lay and she was clingy as hell. Every time he was too lazy to make an effort for something better – without her finding out – she would cling to him for weeks afterwards, clutching his arm and simpering at him whenever he would allow it due to distraction.

Drove him bloody bonkers it did.

But that wasn't the point. The point was he'd shagged Daph and he hadn't fucking enjoyed a minute of it. Oh, he'd gotten her off a time or two before blowing his load, but it wasn't out of any actual passion or enjoyment in the task. It had felt like being on auto-pilot, if he was honest and he was blaming that entirely on the stupid little bitch of a mudblood with her fiery snog and her too-sharp claws and all that deliciously sinful heat.

"Oi, Pans," he said, sitting in the common room with a glass of whiskey. It was a Friday evening and everyone would be leaving on Monday for the Christmas holidays. Theo had dragged a bottle of firewhiskey from somewhere and had been passing it around liberally. Pansy – sitting across the room with her friends and blabbing on with some inane gossip about some Hufflepuffs – looked over. Draco heard Blaise Zabini snort from beside him at the way Pansy reacted to him calling her like a dog reacted to being whistled at.

Draco crooked his finger at her, beckoning her over. The girls had been drinking too. In fact Daph had already snuck off with Theo – who'd been rather plastered by then and would undoubtedly be a shoddy shag for the night for Daph – and Pansy was entertaining Tracy and Milicent with her chatter. She was getting giggly – gigglier, he should say – and it had been bugging him. He knew he didn't stand a chance with Tracy after the last time he'd nailed her – during the summer at a Ball his mother had thrown that had ended with both of them vomiting due to the copious amounts of alcohol they consumed and the position Draco had put the swot in - and besides the girl was a starfish.

Hence the awkward position he'd been fucking her, actually. He'd drunkenly demanded that she wasn't allowed to just bloody lay there and take it like a comatose whore. And she'd not forgiven him for that comment.

"What is it Drakey?" Pansy asked, getting up from her seat eagerly. Blaise laughed next to him when she tripped a little on her own drunken feet before doing that ridiculously exaggerated sashay she did that she thought was sexy.

When she stopped in front of him, having the nerve to walk close enough until she was standing between his spread knees, Draco yanked on her wrist, tugging the little chit down into his lap. She squealed and Draco almost considered shoving her right back off him and onto the floor but chose to silence her with a snog. He needed a fucking distraction. The Pepper Imp taste of Granger seemed to still linger on his tongue even two weeks after their snog and it had been driving him barmy.

He'd rinsed his mouth out so many times and scrubbed his mouth so viciously he suspected he'd scrubbed all the enamel off his teeth. They were definitely a brighter shade of white than they had been before he'd kissed her. He'd caught the little chit eating the sweets yesterday. She must carry a packet of them in her bag and stash them in the pockets of her robes, because he always caught her eating them.

Never in class, mind. But he'd seen her sneaking one in the library yesterday before Pince could spot her. And he had only bloody known because he'd been there bloody looking for her. Like a fucking twat. He'd sought her out by accident, actually. He had simply found himself in the library and lurking behind a shelf near the desk where she studied. He'd been disgusted with himself when he'd watched the way she'd glanced around surreptitiously before sneaking the sweet.

And every time he thought of the flavour, he thought of snogging the little bint.

Pansy groaned in his lap, pliable as could be when he wrapped one hand around her jaw and snogged her hard. He was hoping for distraction and he was sorely disappointed. She was too timid. Too willing to do whatever he might want to keep him happy. He hated that. And that in itself was a problem, because usually Draco enjoyed that. He liked taking what he wanted from a witch without all those bollocks of pushing her for it or having to inflict pleasure on them.

Pansy sighed into his mouth, tasty like the burn of whiseky and nothing else and Draco stiffened. Not in the good way. He didn't want the taste of firewhiseky. He wanted the taste of Pepper Imps. And he didn't want the feel of a compliant little doll – someone picked up, played with and manipulated at will. No, Draco wanting the fire and heat of a furious little mudblood bitch snarling and fighting him, taking what she wanted or needed from him with abandon.

Handing his glass of whiskey off to Blaise, Draco gripped the little chit with both hands on her biceps and jerked her back from his mouth when she pressed forwards even more, wrapping herself around him like an octopus and suffocating him with her tongue.

"Actually, fuck this," he said in a bored voice, shoving her further. He meant to make her simply get off him but when she dove in again, trying to convince him shagging her would be worth the effort, Draco shoved her harder, toppling her to the floor when she landed in a crumpled heap by his feet.

"Drakey!" she cried out, looking hurt as she stared up at him, her eyes getting weeping already.

Draco curled his lip at her in disgust. He'd always hated her beady little eyes – never more than when she was sobbing about something. Snatching his glass back from Blaise, Draco drained the liquid from it. He tossed it onto the side table and got to his feet, kicking Pansy's hands from his calves as he stood.

"You want this?" he offered to Blaise, nodding to the female clinging to his leg.

"Drakey what did I do wrong?" Pansy demanded, openly crying now and making a spectacle of herself. She always did when she was drunk. Something else Draco loathed. It was his own fault, to an extent. He strung her along, toying with her, pulling her close when it suited him and then kicking her away viciously when she annoyed him.

"You're doing it now, idiot," he told her, "Get the hell off me and stop being to bloody willing to cater to my bullshit."

With that he stalked across the common room towards the exit door. He didn't know where he planned to go. The library maybe. It wasn't yet curfew and maybe he'd catch the fucking mudblood on her way back to her common room. Draco was disgusted with himself.

"Where are you going?" Pansy cried from behind him even as Blaise took advantage of her drunkenness, pretending to help her up by lifting the little witch into his lap and beginning to stroke his hands down her back. Draco knew the bastard wouldn't care that she was now too drunk and too distraught over his treatment of her to care who fucked her. She would let the dark skinned bloke shag her in a desperate attempt to validate herself after Draco's rejection of her.

Draco also chose to ignore her question, trusting Blaise to keep her in his lap long enough that he could escape without her chasing him and begging him to fuck her. He caught Tracy's eye as he left and he could tell she was annoyed. Milicent tended to alternate between hooking up with Crabbe or Goyle – sometimes both of them at once, the tart – and Tracy had obviously been thinking of shagging Zabini. She was pissy because he'd ruined it by fobbing Pansy off onto Blaise. Something she proved when she sniffed in annoyance and turned her nose up before she stalked over to the group of sixth year boys and started snogging Colt Urquart without warning.

Draco laughed as he heard her older brother – a seventh year – begin shouting about her behaviour. He laughed harder when she flipped her brother the bird before snogging Urquart even more fiercely. He smirked at the idea that their mishap in the summer had clearly stuck with her enough to make her consider the idea of going after what she wanted and doing more than just lying down like a doormat and taking it. In fact, if the git got laid tonight – which looked likely – then Urquart was going to owe Draco.

He left the common room and wound his way through the castle, ignoring the glares and hisses from some of the Gryffindors he passed and the fearful squeaks some Hufflepuff firsties emitted when they spotted him stalking through the corridors. He made his way into the library, bouncing his eyebrows at Pince when she glared at him suspiciously and making the old cow looked even more pinched.

He skulked through the stacks of books, being sure to note who was around and who wasn't. The library was practically deserted given the time of year. Everyone was celebrating the end of term in their dormitories. Everyone except one uppity little mudblood it seemed. Draco smirked when he found her at her usual desk. She was wrapped tightly in heavy winter robes, a pretty pink scarf wrapped around her neck and matching mittens adorning her hands.

Her hair – usually bound in a messy knot – was loose about her shoulders for a change. Draco suspected it was to combat the chill that had stolen over the castle in the past week. It had already been cold, of course. It was winter in Scotland. But during the past week the weather had turned nasty and it was more than a little bit chilly. He knew all about it. He had icy showers every fucking morning despite that terrible cold and it was all because of this bloody mudblood.

She was writing what looked to be an essay length letter and Draco rolled his eyes. Who could she possibly be writing to? She would be returning to her filthy muggle parents for the holidays. Why wouldn't she just wait to tell them everything then? He didn't dare ask her. In fact he didn't dare approach her. For all his Dutch courage thanks to the liquor he was still a self-serving coward at heart and the last thing he wanted to do was be caught with the little chit. More to the point, he shouldn't fucking be there.

He shouldn't have been dreaming about fucking her. He shouldn't have snogged her and he shouldn't be wanting to do it again. He tried to tell himself it was because he was just a randy teenage boy. It was expected that he be horny as fuck all the time. Thought not for the likes of her. Draco tried to tell himself that there were willing witches down in Slytherin that were more acceptable. Pureblooded princesses who would spread their legs for him if they thought it might improve their social standing or might let them get their claws on his family fortune.

And instead, Draco found himself lurking in the sodding library. He told himself he was just spying on her because it was his job as part of the Inquisitorial Squad and as a prefect. She and her gang of bloody do-gooders were up to something. He was sure of it. He had a good idea of what too. He knew as well as anyone that she and Potter had begun some kind of duelling club thing.

Draco was more than a little irked that he hadn't thought of it, couldn't get away with it and would never be bloody invited into theirs. Not that he wanted to hang out with them. He didn't know how long he lurked in the library, having to keep moving to different sections as though searching for something when Pince began hovering about him suspiciously, clearly realising he was up to no good.

He had to evade the old harridan a few times and Draco cursed foully when he managed to give her the slip down the back by the restricted section, only to sneak back to see if Granger was still there and found her gone. He glanced around wildly, making sure she wasn't anywhere in sight and hadn't noticed him loitering about like a fucking idiot before he stalked for the exit. Just his fucking luck. The little swot needed a good shake-up if she was spending the last day of term writing letters and studying.

No wonder she got better fucking grades than he did.

The alcohol in his system was the excuse he was using for the idea of heading for Gryffindor Tower rather than back to his own common room. The sensible thing to do was to forget about her. To go the hell home on Monday and forget she existed. Not pursue her through the castle entertaining thoughts even more impure than her filthy muggle blood.

But Draco wasn't in the mood to do the sensible thing or even the smart thing. In fact he wasn't in the mood to do anything other than feel her fiery heat again. He wanted to feel more of it. Maybe all of it.

Fuck!

It would be just his fucking luck that she would sneak away while Pince was being a pain in the arse and beat him back to her common room before he could catch up with her. Draco was just considering the idea of turning back when he heard a female voice form the next corridor, just around the corner.

"Oh for the love of… Really?" an angry female voice demanded and Draco's curiosity got the better of him.

He skidded around the corner into an all too familiar corridor, realising suddenly that this really must be Granger's usual stomping ground on her way back to the Gryffindor common room. He could tell because he recognised the corridor. It was the same one he'd been stuck in for hours two weeks ago under than confounded mistletoe.

And there was Granger just up ahead, trapped under a thick sprig of mistletoe. Draco could have purred with satisfaction at the very sight. The irony was not lost on him that she'd unwillingly freed him from this particular occurrence in this particular corridor a fortnight ago.

"Of all the rotten luck," Granger was too busy cussing to have noticed him yet as she slowly stalked his prey, "And in this bloody corridor. Who leaves mistletoe in a corridor so few people use?"

Draco sniggered at her rant, having given a similar one weeks ago.

"Bloody irresponsible," he heard her mutter and Draco snorted at her comment when he realised she sounded just like he had.

Her head snapped up at the sound, her hands twitching for her wand in her pocket but she fumbled it with her mittens on. Draco stalked towards her slowly, enjoying the trepidation on her face as her cheeks turned scarlet.

"Well now, what do we have here?" he purred exultantly.

"Fuck off Malfoy," she hissed immediately, surprising Draco with her venom, "I'd rather be stuck here all night long than deal with the likes of you."

Draco tilted his head to one side, contemplating her.

"You think so?" he asked sneeringly, stalking slowly closer.

"Don't come any closer, Malfoy, I mean it," she warned, finally freeing her wand from her pocket and aiming it at him. Draco ignored the warning. Too drunk and too horny to heed her suggestion when he had her right where he wanted her. Well, almost where he wanted her.

"Or you'll what, Mudblood?" he taunted, stalking even closer.

Before she could spew a reply he took the last three steps between them quickly, invading her personal space and snagging her into his hold. She hissed in surprise, her lips parting unwittingly at his audacity and Draco claimed her mouth in a snog to rival the one from two weeks ago. He planted his lips on hers hungrily, drawing the succulently plump flesh of her bottom lip into his mouth and suckling it a moment before nipping it sharply.

She groaned against him, the hand she'd brought against his chest to ward him off instead fisting in the fabric of his shirt as she snogged him back. Draco growled in his throat when the mistletoe gave, freeing her before he forced her backwards until she collided with the nearest wall. He moulded himself to the soft curves and warm heat of her filthy little mudblood body, driving his knees between her legs to keep her from trying to kick him away from her.

He'd caught her wand arm – still clutching the weapon – in one hand, and Draco slammed it against the wall above her head, laying her body bare to him as he plundered her mouth like a conquering barbarian. Bloody fucking Merlin, there was that Pepper Imp taste of her tongue. Draco licked at the flavour hungrily, drawing it into himself. From the way she groaned into his mouth, he suspected maybe she'd been going as barmy for this repeat as he had.

Draco used his free hand to mould her to him even more, pressing every inch of her that he could reach against himself. She pulled at him too, her hand releasing his shirt to snarl into his hair at the nape of his neck, angling his head to better snog him and Draco could have purred like a big cat with satisfaction.

It was wrong. It was so fucking wrong but blast it all he wanted her. _Bad._ He wanted her like a junkie wanted a hit and Draco would be damned if he wasn't going to have her.

He growled in annoyance when she suddenly jerked sharply on his hair, dragging him back from her. She was panting, her breathing ragged, her cheeks flushed as she opened those fiery brown eyes and glared up at him.

"You've been drinking," she accused, hissing when he moulded his hips to hers, pressing his need insistently against her.

"I have," Draco agreed with a smirk, wondering what the little chit knew about drinking to know it by the flavour on his tongue alone.

"You were stalking me," she accused again, "You followed me here."

Draco didn't deny it. He just leaned in and snogged her even harder. She unleashed a sound of fury, her nails digging viciously into the back of his neck and Draco nipped her lip angrily when she broke the skin. She returned the caress with a vicious bite of her own. Her hand – the one pinned above her head in his grip – began to wriggle and twist in his hold, searching for release and Draco held tighter for a moment before letting her go so he could tangle his hand in that mass of wild curls. They were bloody awful to look at, but he'd found them featuring in his dreams too many times to resist the urge to yank on them harshly while he took her mouth.

She snogged him back furiously, her now-freed hand dropping to his waist. Draco smirked when she burrowed the appendage under the hem of his untucked shirt. Despite the chill of the drafty corridors, he'd left his tie, his jumper and his cloak in the common room – all discarded thanks to the warmth the liquor provided.

He jerked back from her lips with a hiss when she sliced those sharp claws of hers into his back again. She glared at him hatefully, breathing hard now as she tried to catch her breath.

"Get off me," she commanded when she could but Draco ignored her in favour of nipping her chin and then nipping, licking, kissing and biting his way along the length of her jaw to her ear.

"Make me," he breathed in her ears before swirling his tongue around the fleshy shell. She hissed, trying to jerk away from him again but it ended on a moan when he kissed the side of her neck just below her ear before continuing down her neck. Draco smirked triumphantly at the sound. She clawed him again. She was just as vicious as before but Draco blocked out the sting. He'd begun grinding his hips against hers, revelling in the friction caused by the heat of her body moulded so firmly against his.

"Damn it, Malfoy," she cursed in annoyance when he suckled the flesh of her neck into his mouth, drawing the filthy blood beneath her skin up to the surface in a wicked love-bite. She whimpered slightly when he bit her, quite hard, in the same spot, being sure he would leave marks on her as she'd done to him last time and as she was doing now with her nails.

Draco smirked as he pulled back to admire his handiwork for a moment before claiming her lips again.

They really ought to get out of the corridor, he supposed, else he'd be caught manhandling a mudblood and he'd be ruined. The shame of the very idea cooled his blood just enough that he could think straight again and without breaking their kiss, Draco jerked on her clothes, pulling her away from the wall and down the corridor a few meters to what he suspected was a deserted classroom. He smirked, steering them along, when she didn't try to pull away from his lips or break the kiss.

It seemed that just as he did, she craved the fire of their hatred sparking so hot and furious between them. He kind of liked the way she took what she wanted from him without asking or making apologies. She shamelessly took it. Something proven when he felt her fingers trailing over his taut stomach for a moment before she released her hold on his hair and the other on his hip, her hands going to either side of his white button up and seizing the fabric.

He damn near came at the sound of the squealing tear the fabric gave as she ripped it open, sending the buttons pinging off in all directions to patter against the floor, lost under dusty desks and instantly forgotten. Draco hissed in surprised approval when she shoved him against the door of the classroom as he managed to manoeuver it closed with them both sealed inside. He banged his head against it because she was being so rough with him.

She broke their fervid snog, leaning into his neck and nipping the flesh hard enough to smart before she kissed her way lower, peppering little kisses and nips over his chest.

"Bloody hell," Draco groaned when she suddenly dipped her whole body in his hold and he felt her hot tongue slide over the ridges of muscle on his washboard abs. She gripped his ribcage in both hands as she did it before lifting right back up on her toes, nipping his chin before capturing his lips despite how he'd thrown his head back in surprise.

Fuck, now he had to have her!

He wanted to feel her doing that thing with her tongue to his cock.

Dragging his hands at the scarf around her neck, Draco snatched it from her and tossed it aside before he peeled her out of her heavy winter cloak. He cursed when he realised how many bloody layers she was wearing. Pulling away from her lips long enough to peel two jumpers off over her head, followed by her shirt and an undershirt, Draco levelled her a glare.

"Don't glare at me Malfoy," she warned him when she stood in only her trousers and her bra – a boring skin-toned one, "You're the one who got drunk and stalked me, planning this little rendezvous not me. I don't just dress for the idea of a cheap and paltry hook-up in an empty classroom."

"Could you not talk?" he sneered as he pulled her back towards him, "It makes it much harder to pretend you're someone else when I have to listen to your voice."

"Fuck you," she snarled at him, clawing his viciously and slapping her open palm harshly to his bare chest. Draco winced at the blow before offering her a taunting sneer.

"What do you think you're here to do Granger?" he rolled his eyes before he snogged her again, effectively shutting her up before she could say something to piss him off and make him realise he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

Merlin, he'd never fucking live it down but he _had_ to have her. Even standing there with her hair all tousled and her boring bra on, she'd looked too bloody shaggable. What right did she have to be shaggable when her blood was some filthy?

Before he could think too hard and talk himself out of what he was doing, making more excuses not to fuck her – counteracting all the ones he'd made earlier about why he should stalk her and prey on her like this – Draco unsnapped her bra and dragged it from her body. She was snogging him wildly as she went to work on his belt and Draco got the unnerving feel that she'd done that before if she was that bloody bold about it. Maybe not with him, but Draco suspected he wasn't going to be the hot little mudblood's first shag.

That kind of irked him, actually. Just who the hell has she been spreading her legs for? If she was willing to spread them for him – a bloke she unequivocally hated – then it could be just about anybody. Weasley maybe? Probably not Potter. They're mistletoe encounter last week had been too awkward.

Draco hands were too busy with her breasts to pay any heed to the way she unzipped his trousers and dropped them to let them pool at his feel. She squirmed slightly in his hold, her tongue stroking his skilfully as his fingers pinched at her nipples. He half-opened one eye, thinking she might be ticklish or over-sensitive and if it weren't for having his tongue in her mouth he'd have snorted when he realised she was just trying to step out of her shoes.

Her hands circled the bared flesh of his hips, fingers pressing against the scratches she'd left on him and making them sting as she pulled him closer. Draco smirked when she turned both of them until she was the one pressed against the door. Her fingers lingered on his taut stomach and he smirked against her lips as she whimpered when he pinched her nipples.

Desperate for oxygen, Draco broke their kiss, trailing his lips down her neck while she moaned softly at the feel of his hands on her. She felt like fire incarnate under his hands, her body so hot from his attentions despite the cold chill of the classroom.

"Ah, fuck," he groaned when her hands slipped insider his boxers, freeing him from them without even a hint of shyness. She gripped his length firmly, working her palm up and down slowly at first, and then faster.

"You've done this before," he accused, his breath coming in sharp gasps while his hands left her breasts, desperate to free her from her trousers. He unhitched them quickly, shoving them down her legs and sending her knickers skidding down her thighs after them.

She bit his neck harshly in response to his accusation, and Draco cursed again, his fingers delving for the liquid fire between her legs. Gods, the cinnamon scent of her flesh was like an aphrodisiac. He didn't think he'd ever wanted anyone as badly as he wanted her then. She hummed a sound of approval as he plunged his fingers in and out of her rapidly, meeting no resistance in her slick warmth.

When she tipped her head back, breathing hard, Draco got a good look at her. She was plastered against the door, her small hand wrapped around his silken steel length, the other hand tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Her wild curls were all in a mess from him running his hands through them and her cheeks were flushed with exertion and desire. Her eyes were closed against the onslaught of pleasure he was inflicting upon her.

Draco's cock twitched at the very sight. He'd never have imagined he could think a mudblood to be beautiful, but she looked it then. He leaned into her slowly, capturing her lips hungrily again. She rewarded him with a slow pump of her hand over his length and Draco's eyes crossed with need. Merlin's bloody bollocks if he hadn't been drinking Draco feared he'd have come like a snivelling little idiot by now and he wasn't even inside her yet.

She didn't break the kiss as she released her grip on his hair, curling her free hand around his hip before lifting one of her legs to loop it around him. She used her grip on him to pull him closer, canting her hips and aligning him at the liquid fire junction between her legs. Draco groaned, withdrawing his fingers when he realised she meant to impale herself on him. Bloody hell, none of the Slytherin witches were ever that forward. They always whimpered their way through things at his pace, doing nothing without prompting or even strict instruction.

Granger clearly didn't care about what he wanted on whether or not he felt like fucking her yet. She was going to take exactly what she wanted from him on her terms or not at all.

"Hmmm," she hummed, sounding delighted as he drove into her just fast enough to jolt her a little but not so fast as to make it hurt. Draco's knees nearly gave out at the feel of her tight, wet heat gripping him so greedily.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, breaking his lips away from hers to nip at her neck again, trying to catch his breath. He had to begin reciting really dull facts inside him whiskey-numbed mind to keep from coming early and ruining this moment. She burrowed into his neck, rocking her hips and breaking his concentration as she kissed his throat needily. Her nails urged him into movement and Draco's mind went blank with desire then.

He forgot about thinking of anything else. He forgot to care about whether she was enjoying it. That was up to her to handle. She was clearly experienced enough to know what she was doing. And he couldn't think straight with her urging her like that and squeezing him so tightly. His hips snapping furiously, Draco bit down hard on her neck, his hand clutching her close, driving himself into her again and again and again.

Dimly he was aware of the little kitten mewls of pleasure that escaped her lips, her huffing breath ghosting over his sensitive skin as she panted beneath his assault.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he heard her chant softly, her hands and slit gripping him tighter suddenly, clenching with need and nearly driving him out of his mind. She canted her hips just bit before a strangled groan tore from her throat and Draco's eyes crossed as she orgasmed hard in his arms.

She went lax then, her forehead pressed to the top of his bare shoulder as Draco drove into her even harder.

"Bloody hell, Granger," Draco cursed when he felt his brain beginning to go fuzzy. He slammed into her viciously, driving himself impossibly deeper inside her until, with a strangled yelp, he was coming.

He cursed loudly too when she suddenly shoved at his stomach, pushing him back so that he was free of her dripping sex. It was too late for him to hold back as he came, black spots clouding his vision and one hand clamped tightly inside her curls. She kissed his neck slowly, almost lazily, as his seed spurted free, now falling on her stomach, her legs and the floor rather than inside her. Draco cursed, panting hard and laying his forehead against the top of her slim shoulder as he tried to regain his bearings and catch his breath.

"What the hell…" he began, his eyes narrowing in annoyance that she'd denied him the chance to come inside her. He lifted his head, meaning to cuss her out about the mess now covering both of them but before he could her head suddenly shot up, one hand coming up to cover his mouth and her eyes going wide.

Draco thought she might be panicking, suddenly recalling she'd just shagged her enemy. She held her breath, expression panicked and pointed to her ear suddenly and Draco recognised the silent command to listen. Holding his breath too, Draco suddenly heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor outside – someone running by the door.

Glancing at the watch strapped to her left wrist, Draco read the time upside-down. Then he showed it to her, indicating it had somehow gotten to be well after curfew. She narrowed her eyes on the watch as though it were to blame for the late hour. She also kept her hand over his mouth until the sound of the footsteps in the dark were long gone.

Draco glared down at her in annoyance as she slipped her hand away from his mouth.

"Really, Granger?" he demanded, waving his hand towards the sticky mess now covering both of them where he'd come on the floor and on her rather than inside her. She didn't answer, sliding the hand she'd been silencing him with into his hair and pulling him down to snog the daylights out of him again. Her tongue tangled with his lazily, though still just as passionately as every other time they'd snogged.

"Get off me now," she commanded when she pulled away, refusing to let him snog her again and making Draco feel stupid for trying.

She press both hands to his bare chest, forcing him back a few steps as she leaned away from the door. Draco stared at her for a long moment in silence, taking in the sight of her supple, naked form before she bent down and scooped her wand from the pile of their clothing. She waved it, muttering vanishing charms and cleansing charms and Draco's skin tingled as she cleaned him too before she found her knickers – a black cotton pair – and tugged them back up her legs. She found her bra too and affixed it back around herself properly.

"What was that you were saying last week about no one willingly snogging me?" he taunted as he righted his boxers and straightened his shirt so he could button it. Not that he much cared about making it look decent.

"Piss off, Malfoy," she sneered in return, though she offered no defence, clearly not intending to suggest she hadn't wanted to fuck him as much as he'd wanted to fuck her. She wiggled into her trousers and then into her many jumpers while he watched and while he found his own trousers and pulled them up.

"You shoved me out?" he asked, his annoyance with her over that returning. He wanted an explanation, damn it.

"I'm not taking any contraceptives anymore," she informed him with a shrug, glancing over at him and looking annoyed with him about something, "Also, the idea of your essence inside me makes me ill enough, without the added concern of getting pregnant."

Draco glared at her. It was just as well that she'd had the presence of mind to prevent that particular horror-show but he was still kind of pissed about it.

"Anymore?" he asked instead, catching the figure of speech she'd used.

She narrowed her eyes on him.

"Did you really think you'd be my first?" she asked, rolling her eyes, her tone scathing.

"Who'd have known that the bookish little pencil-neck know-it-all was such a tart?" Draco sneered at her answer, smirking cruelly.

"No one, actually. No one you know, anyway. And no one is going to know," she informed him coldly.

"What's to stop me spreading it around that you're a tart then?" he asked, already feeling better about being shoved away with the prospect of ruining her reputation.

Draco wasn't expecting it was she stalked him across the classroom until she was well within his personal space again. Her hands came up on both side of his neck, forearms resting atop his shoulders and her fingers tangling in his blonde hair. She was smirking at him cruelly and Draco suddenly felt nervous. He didn't like that expression. Not when he'd threatened her reputation.

"And who might you tell, Malfoy?" she asked in a sultry purr that made his wilted cock twitch as though entertaining thoughts of round two, "Who would believe you? After all, everyone thinks I'm a bookish little pencil-neck know-it-all. They all think I'm sweet and virginal and prudish. Who's going to believe the word of a prejudice, spiteful ferret like you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. He loathed the fact that no one was letting him live down that ferret fiasco. He also loathed the way she looked so smug.

"But go on and try it if you want," she went on looking utterly victorious now in addition to being well-shagged, "Try telling everyone that I'm some little tart. The type who'd shag the likes of you. See how it goes for you. I'm sure you'll have very little luck convincing people."

Draco thought seriously about taking her up on the challenge. He opened his mouth to respond but before he could, she spoke again.

"Of course, on the other hand, I could tell people that your good pureblood name has been smeared with the filth of a mudblood," she threatened quietly, murmuring to him as though they were sweet-nothings rather than threats falling from her lips, "How many people do you think I could convince of the idea that you're so vocal about your supposed hatred of mudbloods like me, all because you're trying to hide your dirty little secret? How many might believe it's an overcompensating front of yours? How many do you think might believe me if I tell them you've fucked me? Tell me, what do you think your Daddy might do if he heard about this?"

Draco's blood ran cold and he realised he'd just been out-Slytherined by a Gryffindor.

"Don't you fucking dare," he warned, his eyes flashing as his hands came up to grip her shoulders tightly, shoving her back from him and then glaring at her across the classroom.

" _This,_ " he waved his hand indicatively between the two of them, "Never happened either. Got it? Nothing happened. And don't you dare say otherwise."

She smirked nastily at him.

"You're pathetic," she informed him before spinning for the door, jerking it open and slipping through it.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief before she stuck her head back through the door.

"Oh and Malfoy? _This,_ " she waved her hand indicatively between them, as he had done, "Had better never happen again."

With that she was gone, her footsteps echoing in the corridor outside until she was long gone and he was alone. Draco scrubbed his hands over his face, reaching for sanity as it had eluded him all evening. When he was in control of himself, Draco meandered back down to the dungeons. The late hour meant he had to dodge Filch and his ugly cat, but he made it back to the Slytherin dormitories unscathed.

When he was in his dorm he stalked over to his bed and began to strip. He ought to shower – to wash off the scent and feel of that filthy fucking little mudblood – but he was too tired and too drunk to care.

"Bloody hell, mate," Blaise's voice came from the bed across the room and Draco glanced over at him in confusion before realising the bastard had just spotted the marks Granger had left all over his back and on his throat, "Who the hell did you just shag? She must've been a hellcat."

"What, so you can seek her out for yourself?" Draco drawled, resisting the irrational urge to cover the marks Granger had left on him like some embarrassed, guilty git. He would never usually cover such marks and to do so now would arouse suspicion, "Don't you think we've shared enough witches, Zabini?"

Zabini smirked at his question.

"Well, yeah," he shrugged, "But you can't hold out with that kind of information. What kind of witch is game enough to leave those kind of marks on you?"

Draco smirked in the dimly lit dormitory.

"The fiery, secret kind," Draco told him before he climbed into bed and pulled his curtains, ending the conversation with Zabini. He fell asleep thinking about the feel of Mudblood Granger's tongue sliding over his tight abs.


	4. Chapter 4: Silent Proposition

**A/N: Hello! Bet you weren't expecting an update on this one when I've been hammering out updates on so many of my other fics. =) I'm so pleased you're all enjoying a non-virginal Hermione in this one. She's just too much fun to write as being a bit more experienced. I hope you like this chapter. I know I do. Thanks so much for all your reviews, they make me write faster! Much love! xx-Kitten**

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 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 4: Silent Proposition**

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"Miss Granger, I must speak with you immediately," Professor Minerva McGonagall accosted Hermione as she was entering the Great Hall the following morning. She'd been unable to locate Harry, Ron or Ginny before coming down. She'd slept a little later than she'd intended after being up late with Malfoy and after being shagged for the first time in months. She and Viktor had been having sex when she'd dated him, but since they'd broken up Hermione had essentially been celibate, save for a mistaken one-night-stand she'd had with a muggle boy at a party in London before she'd joined the Weasley's during the summer.

Having not hooked up with anyone since then until she'd shagged Malfoy last night, Hermione had forgotten how tiring and strenuous it could be. She suspected she'd pulled one of the muscles in her inner thigh and her neck had been a mess when she'd gotten up. She'd had a nasty looking love-bite on her throat where he'd bitten and sucked at her flesh until the skin broken. She'd been late to the common room thanks to the amount of time she'd had to take to cover the blemish, first trying to use magic to heal it and then resorting to using make-up when she discovered she'd run out of bruise salve. She would have to brew some more over the holidays.

"What is it, Professor?" Hermione asked, frowning at the elder witch in concern when McGonagall took her by the hand and led her away from the hall.

"Your friends, Harry and the Weasley children were removed from Hogwarts last night. Harry had some sort of out-of-body experience that meant he witnessed a vicious snake attack on Arthur while he was engaged in top secret business for the Order," McGonagall told her quietly when she ushered Hermione into an empty office, "We sought to remove you as well, but no one could locate you at the time of the incident as you were not in bed."

Hermione felt her cheeks turn scarlet.

"I'm sorry Professor. I got distracted researching a homework assignment in the library and after Madam Pince kicked me out I didn't want to go back to the common room to continue studying as I knew people would be up late, celebrating the impending holiday. I fell asleep at a desk in a classroom on the fifth floor," Hermione lied quickly, horrified that the one night she'd needed to be in her bed asleep, she'd instead been shagging the enemy.

How could she have been so stupid?

"Well do be more careful in future, Miss Granger. I was very worried over your whereabouts. However, the circumstances being what they were, it is of little consequence today. Arthur has been rushed to St. Mungo's whilst Harry and the Weasley's have taken a portkey to Grimmauld Place, awaiting news. As we were unable to locate you, you will need to take the train back to London today with the other students."

"I understand Professor. I'm so sorry. Is Mr Weasley going to be alright?" Hermione asked, worried for the man she thought of like a father.

"That is unclear at this time Miss Granger. He was badly poisoned, however Harry's… awareness of the situation resulted in him being treated quickly. Had it not been for him, Arthur would surely be dead."

"Is Harry alright, Professor?" Hermione asked, hoping her best friend was going to be alright. It wasn't normal to be having visions of events happening miles and miles away whilst asleep.

"I'm not sure, Miss Granger. This is all highly irregular."

Hermione sighed, "Yes, things with Harry always seem to be, Professor."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall told her, smiling ruefully, "However, their sudden and unexplained departure calls into sharp focus your remaining here. Professor Umbridge is, as you can no doubt imagine, on a war-path trying to learn what became of Harry and the Weasleys so she can report it to the Minister and further sow the seeds of doubt regarding You-Know-Who's return. She will seek to interrogate you, Miss Granger and I would not recommend that you be seen by her before leaving on the train this morning."

Hermione nodded her head, feeling positively wretched for having caused such a fuss and for not being there for her friends when they needed her. They would undoubtedly be furious and worried over not being able to find her.

"Dobby?" Professor McGonagall called for the house elf suddenly and Hermione jumped when Dobby appeared.

"Professor McGonagall, Miss?" Dobby asked, bowing low, "And Harry Potter's most esteemed friend, Hermione Granger!"

Hermione eyed Dobby with a smile, noting that he was wearing the stack of hats she'd been knitting for the elves, clearly stealing all of them and leaving none for the others. He looked comical with so many of them piled upon his head.

"Please bring Miss Granger some breakfast, Dobby. She will be eating in private today before taking the train to London," Professor McGonagall said.

"Of course, Professor. What is you feeling like, Miss Hermione?" Dobby asked her, beaming to have been called upon and spoken to so politely.

"Do you have any French Toast, Dobby?" Hermione asked the elf.

"Right away, miss!" Dobby cheered, disapparating with a crack.

"A very peculiar elf, that one," Professor McGonagall commented, "I trust you will be remaining out of sight until the time to take the train?"

"Yes Professor. Thank you for letting me know," Hermione nodded her head, "I'll have my breakfast up on the Astronomy Tower today, I think."

Professor McGonagall smiled tightly.

"If I do not see you again before Christmas, Miss Granger, I hope it is a happy one."

"You too, Professor," Hermione smiled at the woman.

"If I can escape that wretched woman for a day or two I will be more than happy," McGonagall muttered darkly before she bid Hermione goodbye and left her in the classroom to return to her duties.

Hermione dusted off a stool and sat to wait for Dobby to return with her breakfast, pondering all she had done. She felt terrible. She couldn't believe she'd missed out on something so important for the sake of shagging Malfoy. She felt like a traitor. She had betrayed her friends by not being there when they needed her, all because she was sleeping with the enemy.

What a positively stupid thing to do. She'd been berating herself about last night's incident since she'd awoken that morning. She could hardly believe she had actually done it. She'd had sex with the likes of Draco Malfoy. How positively wretched. Hermione didn't know how to even rationalise it to herself, let alone to think about explaining it to herself or to anyone else. Not that she planned on telling anyone. It was just too horrid to contemplate.

What had she been thinking? He was Draco sodding Malfoy! He was the son of a known Death Eater. He was bigoted and had been cruel to her the entire time they'd known one another. He was a snivelling little ferret. Hermione drummed her fingers on the table impatiently as her traitorous mind also pointed out that he was fit and handsome and arrogant in the way that only bad-boy rich guys could be.

She curled her lip in self-disgust when she tucked into her breakfast, thanking Dobby profusely for the food even as she tried to quantify her own wretchedness for having slept with Malfoy in the first place. She wasn't overly concerned that he would tell anyone what they'd done, either last night or the first time he'd kissed her. He had too much to lose if anyone ever found out.

The trouble, Hermione decided, was that she'd bloody enjoyed it at the time. Ever since that first incident she'd been thinking entirely too much about the horrid git, noticing things about him that she had no business noticing. Like the way she'd perved on him in Potions when Snape had almost caught her hexing her peers. Ever since then she'd found herself imagining his taut stomach in entirely too much detail far too often. She'd daydreamed about running her tongue over the ridges of his abs, as she'd done last night.

Her favourite thing about Viktor, while she been dating him, was how fit he was. She loved the feel of strong, supple and wiry male muscle encased in smooth skin. She hated Malfoy all the more for the way he'd reacted when she'd licked his stomach after having daydreamed about doing it for so long. What right did he have to enjoy the touch of someone he demeaned on a daily basis? How dare he seek her out for the purpose of shagging her – as he'd clearly done last night – when he was so foul to her the rest of the time?

Just who did he think he was?

Hermione snorted to herself that. He was Draco sodding Malfoy, that's who. The boy who believed the sun ought to shine out his arse and that he was the centre of the universe. The boy who'd been spoiled and doted upon all his life. Not that she could talk. Hermione knew what it was like to be the beloved only child of doting parents. She knew how it had shaped her into the bossy, nosey, slightly self-centred girl she was.

She knew that similar indulgence from Mr and Mrs Malfoy had clearly caused the same tendencies in Malfoy. She'd never met another person as nosy and conceited. As desperate for attention at all times, even when he didn't deserve it. Hermione finished her breakfast as she pondered the entire situation.

She was going to have to start taking her contraceptives again. She'd stopped when she'd broken things off with Viktor, seeing little need for them. In fact she'd sworn off boys after she'd shagged that muggle boy at the party in the summer. She'd felt entirely too used when she'd awoken the following morning and had vowed she would no longer engage in meaningless sexual acts with boys who didn't care for her. She'd only done so in the first place because she'd been fresh from her break-up with Viktor and unsure what to do with the pent-up sexual desire that had resulted from knowing the intricacies of sex and suddenly being deprived of them.

And then she'd gone and shagged Draco bloody Malfoy. Like a fool.

She didn't envision doing so again.

Okay. That was a lie. Hermione was already imagining doing so again because it had been absolutely fantastic. With Malfoy, she didn't at all care about what he thought of her, how he felt about the idea of shagging her or whether or not he particularly enjoyed himself. She'd used him last night just as surely as he'd used her and she'd enjoyed it immensely. If she were to be completely honest, Hermione would admit that she wanted to shag him again.

Not because she was attracted to his ridiculous blonde hair, snarky attitude or horrid personality at all. No, she wanted to shag him precisely because she wasn't. She could appreciate the fine male form he had hidden under his robes without getting attached to him. She even suspected she could tolerate his annoying presence long enough to take advantage of his body. Merlin, if she could only gag him to keep from hearing his drawling voice, it would be perfect.

As such, the fact that she was thinking about such things prompted Hermione to the idea of getting back on contraceptives. She'd warned Malfoy that they better not hook up again, but who was she kidding? The git had sought her out whilst drunk. He'd stalked her through the castle and happened upon her at a most opportune moment, given that she'd just gotten herself stuck under the mistletoe. He'd hunted her down as surely as a wolf hunting his prey and he'd gotten her too. She suspected, based on his behaviour, that he'd been as distracted by her as she'd grown by him.

That snog weeks ago had messed with her head and Hermione had been waking from terribly fantasies about the stupid little ferret ever since. After last night she expected they would only get worse. She couldn't deny that as much as she loathed him, she wanted his body. Were he anyone else and were they not on opposing sides of the war; more importantly, were he not a raging, bigoted, annoying, smarmy, smug, arrogant, vindictive sneering git, Hermione might even have been willing to accept that there was an undeniable spark between them. After all, not everyone could have such explosive sex with someone they loathed.

As such, she would get back on her contraceptives, just in case she fell victim to the need for shagging him again. Hermione wondered what it said about her that she was sitting there contemplating preventative measures to help her keep her secret when she ought to be fretting over Mr Weasley's fate and over how all of her friends were probably feeling right now. They'd be sitting at headquarters and probably terrified for Arthur.

And she was sitting around thinking about having sex with Draco Malfoy again. Disgusted with herself, Hermione finished her breakfast and discarded her bowl, leaving it in the room for Dobby to collect if he remembered. She'd packed all of her things to go away for the holidays already before leaving her dormitory. Unable to go wandering into the Great Hall lest she be accosted by Umbridge, Hermione left the classroom and instead crept across the Entrance Hall and out into the grounds. It was a chilly winter morning, crisp and cool, but Hermione didn't mind.

She'd entertained the idea of staying at Hogwarts for Christmas this year, but with all of her friends going away there was little point. Her parents were supposed to be taking her skiing in France for the winter break, but Hermione had never been very big on skiing. Oh she was excited, but she also didn't look forward the actual skiing part. She wasn't a fan of racing down hillsides at break-neck speeds. Not when her world consisted of games played on bewitched branches. Skiing didn't seem so extreme compared to Quidditch.

That being said, Hermione was a fan of ice skating and she found herself drifting across the grounds and down the lake. She'd taken figure skating lessons as a girl and Hermione had never overcome her adoration for the sport. When she reached the edge of the frozen lake, Hermione transfigured her boots into a pair of skates before tucking her wand back into her pocket and skating out onto the ice. The lake was frozen solid all over thanks to the exceptionally cold stint of weather they'd been having and Hermione delighted in the feel of the ice gliding beneath her skates as she warmed up, performing tight figure-eight turns before she took off as fast as she could.

She was still pondering her interactions with Malfoy –discovering more stiff muscles as she skated after last night's debauchery – when a snowball smacked her wetly in the back of the head. Skidding to a stop on the ice, Hermione pulled out her wand furiously as she searched the area to see who had thrown the snowball at her.

She frowned when she couldn't see anyone. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione looked again. She nearly had a heart attacked when she caught the slightest flash of black amid the shadows beneath a willow tree that hung close to the lake edge, it's wines dipping into the ice. There in the shadows beneath the tree, leaning against the trunk was none other than the very boy she'd been thinking about.

Malfoy.

Hermione clenched her wand a little tighter in her fist. The last thing she felt like doing that morning was dealing with the sneering Slytherin. Performing another tight turn and pretending he hadn't lobbed a snowball at her, Hermione went back to her skating. What could he possibly want with her anyway? And how had he found her on the deserted lake? Everyone else was still inside making sure they'd packed everything they needed for the holidays. Why would he think to seek her out at all, and how had he known she was skating on the lake?

She suspected he must be alone under the tree. She couldn't see anyone else, in any case. Hermione was zooming in a routine she was trying to recall from her childhood when Malfoy lobbed another snowball at her before beckoning her over, looking impatient. Narrowing her eyes at him, Hermione skated towards the tree where he was hiding, wondering what the hell he wanted.

She flicked ice up at him when she skidded to a stop, spraying his robes with the powder from where her skates cut into the surface of the frozen lake.

"Impressive," he drawled sarcastically.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione demanded, without preamble, "Why are you spying on me?"

"Who said anything about spying on you?" he wanted to know, still leaning against the trunk of the tree with his arms crossed over his chest and eyeing her speculatively.

"No one had to. The fact that you're here, hiding under the tree, and obviously alone means you were spying on me," Hermione retorted, "What do you want?"

"What happened with Potter?" he asked her.

Hermione scoffed at him.

"Do you actually think I'm going to tell you?" Hermione asked, laughing at him for his audacity. What did he think? That he could shag her once and she'd suddenly gab all her secrets to him about her friends and the Order? Was he daft?

"Just tell me where they've gone, Granger," Malfoy growled, narrowing his eyes on her, "I know they've left the school. Umbridge is furious up at the school, demanding to know if anyone has seen any of the Weasley children, you or Potter."

"What are you doing down here talking to me then instead of running to the bitch and ratting out my location?" Hermione fired back in return.

"I have more important uses for you than watching Umbridge scream at you, mudblood," he retorted and Hermione hated him all the more for the way his gaze trailed over her like a hot caress, "Did their leaving have anything to do with Weasley's father?"

"What do you care, Malfoy?" Hermione wanted to know, transfiguring her skates back into shoes and stalking across the ground towards him, "If you think you know so much about it, why come asking questions of me?"

"So it does then," he nodded his head, smirking at her coolly even as he watched her approach without backing away.

"What, you think that after last night you just know how to read me to decide if I'm telling the truth or lying?" Hermione asked scornfully, "You think it entitles you to interrogate me about things that don't concern you?"

"Why'd they leave you here, Granger?" Malfoy asked her and Hermione squawked when he moved, seeker-fast, and she suddenly found herself being pressed back against the tree while he gripped her arms tightly, pinning her in place and staring at her, "What would possibly possess all those ridiculous Weasley's to leave their golden girl behind while they all rushed off to see Weasley Senior? I thought you were practically part of their family by now?"

"How is any of this your business?" Hermione demanded, not bothering to put up a fight or trying to throw him off her. She knew it would be futile because he was much stronger than her. There was also the fact that she knew he wanted her to put up a fight and Hermione didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Because they either forgot about you, suggesting they don't care about you as much as it seems and thereby leaving you vulnerable to exploitation. Or they left when you were otherwise occupied, telling me far more about what might've happened to Weasley Senior in the first place," Malfoy retorted, smirking cruelly at her.

Hermione glared into his hateful face, thinking seriously about punching him in that smugly smirking mouth.

"So which is it, Granger?" he asked, leaning closer, "Do they just not care about their pathetic little mudblood? Or are you the horrible and twisted vixen who couldn't be found when they needed you because you were shagging the enemy?"

"What do you care, Malfoy? You just want to rub it in that I made a stupid mistake last night, is that it?" Hermione retorted, refusing to answer him and feeling a blush climb her cheeks that would give away the answer anyway. She hoped her cheeks were too pink from exertion after her skating for him to notice.

"That's not it at all," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I just wondered if you're open to exploitation now or just merciless teasing for being a tart."

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Worried someone decent might seek to fill the place in my lonely heart should my friends have deserted me?" Hermione snarled in return.

Malfoy clucked his tongue, looking wickedly amused by her answer. Hermione flinched at the heat that raced through her when he reached up with one cold hand to hold her jaw intimately. He tipped her head back slightly until she was forced to stare up into his grey eyes unwaveringly.

"Who else did you imagine might seek to take advantage of you in your vulnerability and exploit you, Granger?" he asked, his voice turning husky while he moved even closer to her, pinning her lower half to the tree with his. Hermione could feel that he was aroused.

Her breath hitched when he leaned into her, planting his lips on hers firmly and snogging her soundly. His tongue swept into her mouth, parting her lips with ease and seeking her tongue hungrily. The grip he had on her jaw slipped into her loose curls, tangling in the hair at the back of her neck and Hermione suspected she was truly a horrible person when she snogged him back just as hungrily.

Her best friends were worrying over the possible death bed of Mr Weasley and she was snogging Malfoy. She was officially a ghastly friend. Her heart was racing inside her chest as she snogged him furiously, taking her self-loathing and her anger out on him in one long hot kiss. She snogged him until her mouth ached and she grew light-headed with the lack of oxygen. He ground his pelvis against hers and Hermione hated herself for the thrill that raced through her.

Merlin curse it all, why did he affect her this way?

What right did he have to so effectively make her feel like she could explode into a million tiny fragments without a care in the world?

Nipping his lip, Hermione found herself tangling her fingers into his hair, securing his face to hers to better continue snogging him. Desire zinged through her, bubbling in her blood and making her whole body thrum with need. Goddess, but she wanted him. How could it be that someone so vile could feel so good against her? How could she be entertaining the notion of shagging him again when she'd done so once already, and not even twelve hours ago?

Had she lost her mind? Had he bewitched her with some potion or spell?

He ground himself against her again and Hermione felt his free hand curl around the back of her thigh, hiking one of her legs up against his hip to better grind himself against the rapidly moistening junction between her thighs. Arching into him, Hermione mewled like a needy kitten, hating herself for the way the heat and desire swept her up in an inferno of carnal longing.

As his tongue stroked surely against hers, Hermione recalled what her mother had always said about snogging boys who were trouble. Once was an accident. Twice was a mistake. Thrice was a habit and you were surely doomed. And Malfoy had just become a habit. He swallowed the moan he drew from her when both his hands sought out her breasts, cupping and squeezing her through the fabric of her robes and making her knees weak with how badly she wanted to shag him again.

Digging her nails into his skin, Hermione kissed him harder. Hard enough she was sure her lips would bruise. Her heart raced and her head spun and she was sure her knickers were damp with how badly she wanted him to peel her out of her robes and shag her again. Goddess, it was wrong in so many ways that it made her sick to her stomach, but she craved him. She wanted to shag him again. Brutally. She wanted to chase the raging heat he stoked within her until she was consumed in the flames.

Tearing himself away from her with difficulty, Malfoy was breathing hard and his eyes were molten with desire when he glared at her. Hermione's own breath was ragged and she felt dizzy with the lack of oxygen. His lips were swollen and red from kissing her, his expression hungry as though he craved her as badly as she craved him. Letting her leg uncurl from around him and drop back to the ground, Hermione stared right back at him.

She could see the indecision warring upon his face just as surely as it warred within her and she wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking. That he was a bad habit she kept falling into. That this was a truly horrible idea. That they would both be utterly ruined if anyone ever learned what they had already done. Hermione wondered as he stared back at her looking just as tortured, if he was thinking just as hard as she was that they needed to stop this. That they shouldn't be doing it.

Merlin, she wanted to do it anyway.

She needed to get away from him. She needed time to think. She could practically read his thoughts in his eyes as he raked his gaze over her again. Wondering just as she was. Could they do this? Could they use one another for the physical distraction and outlet of their hatred for one another as well as for life's frustrations? Could they be enemies with benefits?

They'd already shagged once and she'd snogged him too much already. Hermione knew it was a bad idea. That she should slap him for ever laying a finger on her and put a stop to this nonsense. That she should stay the hell away from him. That she should not be thinking about the idea of making shagging him a regular thing.

A stinging on her lip alerted Hermione to another predicament and she lifted her hand to wipe at the stinging sight. Her thumb came away bloody and she wondered if he'd bitten her or if she'd chewed her lip so much with indecision that she'd broken the skin herself. His eyes fixed upon the blood on her mouth and on her thumb as he took another step back, his breath still coming in heavy pants.

Hermione watched him and he watched her in return.

"I'll see you next term," he told her as he took another step back, somehow managing to look predatory even as he retreated.

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, realising that he had chosen to give them both the length of the break to seriously think about this. He made no verbal suggestion that they ought to be fuck buddies. Neither did she. But she knew they were both thinking it. He was giving her the chance to gather her wits whilst away from him and unlikely to be distracted by him snogging her or anything else before they committed last night's mistake again.

He walked away without another word or a backward glance and Hermione slid down the tree trunk to sit, shell-shocked, at its base.


	5. Chapter 5: Agonising

**A/N: Look! Another update! I'm spoiling you cherubs absolutely rotten with these, methinks. Thanks for all the love and reviews. I know some of you are surprised by Hermione's experience level in this, and that some think it unrealistic, but I was that experienced and sexually active at 16 (as Hermione is in this fic) so I'm arguing that it's hardly unrealistic. Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Agonising**

* * *

The train ride home was like an adventure in torture. Draco was in the dog-house with Pansy, who'd gone out of her way to inform him that he was on the outs with her. As though he cared? Blaise had spent much of the train ride contemplating Draco in silence. Draco knew the bastard was trying to get him to crack about who he'd shagged the previous night but there was no way Draco would ever be admitting to it.

Not when it was sodding Granger.

Merlin, he loathed her.

He spent much of the ride back to London contemplating what he'd done that morning when he'd pinned her to the tree by the lake and snogged her. Bloody hell but he'd wanted to fuck her right there in the snow. The idea mildly terrified him. He'd already shagged her once and he seemed to be growing addicted to the feel of her hot little mudblood body writhing against his, her tongue in his mouth and her pleasure his to provide. It wasn't that he was terrified to shag her again. Sex was just sex, in his opinion. Even if it was explosive and bloody fantastic the way it had been with Granger.

No, what terrified Draco was the fact that he wanted to do it again. And again. And again. He'd been sure that a round with her would purge the little bitch from his system and he'd get over it. That he'd stop fantasising about her, move on with life as though he'd never laid a hand on the likes of such mudblood filth and file the memory under 'Stupid Mistakes' inside his mind. That's what he'd planned to do.

And then he'd snogged her by the lake and suddenly the idea of shagging her whenever he bloody felt like was entirely too appealing. He didn't find her attractive, per se, though she'd certainly blossomed since their younger years when she'd been all wild hair and bucked teeth. These days her teeth were white and straight and perfect. Her hair was still wild, but it somehow seemed different to him. Rather than looking like a ratty bird's nest as in had in the past, it seemed more like a tangle of curls specifically designed to lure men into fisting those locks whilst snogging her into silence.

Now all Draco could think about was shagging her again. He'd meant to down by the lake. When he'd been reaching for her body and grinding his heavy erection against her tight little body, Draco had had every intention of fucking her again before he recalled just what he was doing and who he was doing it with. Granger wasn't just some Slytherin slag he could seek out whenever he got an itch that needing scratching. He couldn't just drag her into a broom closet and have his way with her.

No, if he was ever to shag Granger again it would take a lot more careful planning and some kind of agreement between them. He didn't at all fancy her, and he knew she loathed him in equal measure. The agreement would not at all include emotional attachment, friendship or even common courtesy. If he was stupid enough to actually go through with it, and if Granger lost all of the sense in her clever little head and they actually repeated last night's stupidity, it would be entirely based on sex. Mutual sexual gratification with no strings, no complications and absolutely no one but the two of them aware of what was happening.

That would take planning, of course. After all, it wouldn't be as easy as just taking her hand and hauling her to him or pressing her into a wall in a corridor. They both ran entirely too big a risk with the notion of shagging one another, of being seen interacting. His father would murder him if he ever found out. And that alone really ought to have ended his contemplation and consideration of the idea.

She was a mudblood. She was a Gryffindor. She was on her way to joining the bloody Order of the Phoenix and he was destined to be a Death Eater. They would be on largely different sides of the coming war just as surely as they were enemies in a classroom. She was everything he'd been told all his life was not suitable, not done and otherwise to be scorned, demeaned and ignored. He ought to think of her only in terms of being the enemy and being scum.

He didn't.

And that was a problem.

Because if his father found out, Draco was dead. Hell, if anyone found out Draco was dead. His good name and his reputation would be ruined. Yet for all those things, he wanted to get up right that second, stalk the train until he found her and ravage her body again as he'd done last night. He wanted to fuck her until he couldn't move and Draco didn't know what to do about it. He'd left her by that tree on the grounds and he'd walked away, conflicted over his desire and hatred for her.

He suspected that wherever she was, she was undoubtedly berating herself the same way he was. She was like a bad habit. Something bad for him that he knew he should never have tried and now couldn't put down. The equivalent of trying muggle cigarettes and getting hooked or using recreational drugs and becoming addicted. Draco got the feeling that if he went down this dark and twisted path with her, he'd end up like one of those wretches that squatted in the street in Knockturn Alley, begging for just one more hit of whatever their vice happened to be.

He didn't want that.

But at the same time it was all he wanted. She was like a raging ball of pure energy that drew him in like a moth to a flame. Luring him with her wickedness and yet her utter goodness. There could be no doubt about that. She might be a filthy little mudblood, but Draco knew which one of them was one the 'right' side of the war and which one wasn't. He wondered what it said about him that he knew he was making the wrong choice but intended to make it anyway.

Did it make him a monster? Did one look at the paths of right and wrong, wilfully choose the path of wrong and yet still remain righteous? His devout belief that mudbloods were less than purebloods and ought to be eradicated would lead him down that path, he knew. That and his father's constant prodding, shoving and coaxing into the world of darkness.

Draco wondered what type of hypocrite it made him that he wanted to eradicate mudbloods and yet he also wanted to shag Granger until he couldn't move. Could he do it? Could he be fuck buddies with Hermione Granger? What would it cost him in the long run?

If he could keep anyone from ever finding out about it, Draco reckoned he could pull it off. She could be something he craved now until the attraction and intense spark of sexual desire between them ran its course. She could be something he would look back on when he was old and married with a kid of his own. Something to recall as a mistake and a sign of his reckless youth while he fucked his pureblood wife at night. A youthful dalliance. Draco smirked to himself at the very thought.

There was every chance, after all, that neither of them would survive the coming war. And it was coming. It would be ugly. Hells, if she even agreed to this, she was even barmier than he was for considering it. He literally would not bat an eye to see her tortured or maimed. She was a mudblood and not worth his notice, let alone his time. In turn, he knew she loathed him with a fiery passion. She loathed him so much that she could use him as he used her and that, Draco supposed, was the crux of the matter.

They were entirely wrong for each other in every possible way and ought never to have laid eyes, hands or lips on one another. But they had. And it had been bloody brilliant. Draco continued to ponder it as the train reached London. While he was gathering his trunk with the intent of meeting his parents on the platform, Draco decided that even if they did sink into the stupidity of shagging again on a regular basis, it would run its course.

He doubted it would take long for her to come to her senses and realise she was betraying her friends and everything she stood for every time she climbed into bed with him. He also doubted she'd agree to go through with the notion at all. Hell, for all he knew she wasn't even considering it. He hadn't verbally propositioned her. He hadn't stated out loud that they ought to be fuck buddies. And he never would. Draco Malfoy would never verbalise or quantify what he did with that little bitch if she let him lay another finger on her.

As he exited the train, Draco caught sight of her further down the platform. She hauled her trunk and cat-cage across the pavement with ease, her muggle parents nowhere in sight. Draco supposed they wouldn't be able to reach the platform so they must be waiting somewhere in King's Cross for her.

She glanced around as though she could feel his gaze as she walked towards the exit and Draco met her gaze boldly. He caught a flash of the mark he'd left on her neck last night peeking out from beneath the make-up she'd used to try and cover it. The sight of his mark on her skin stirred his desire for her once more.

"You alright?" Theo Nott asked him, nudging him when Draco stopped walking as he stared down the platform.

She'd been biting her lip when she looked at him, though she was gone now. Draco blinked and glanced over at Theo.

"I think I forgot to pack the books I need for that Potions essay Snape gave us," Draco lied to his friend when Theo continued to stare at him shrewdly.

He didn't mention the fact that he'd been looking at Granger. Or that she'd swept her gaze over him critically, as though she was having the same internal debate as Draco had himself. That she even realised and thought about the idea of them becoming fuck buddies without his prompting or his request made her all the more dangerous in Draco's opinion. That she would do so even after the trouble that had resulted for her after last night was entirely too intriguing.

She'd been left behind in her friends' hour of need while Weasley Senior was carted off to hospital all because she'd been too busy shagging him. She ought to have been blushing crimson and stammering out apologies and proclamations of self-loathing, begging her friends' forgiveness over what she'd done and how she hadn't been there to accompany them and comfort them when she ought to have been. She should not have been thinking about shagging him again.

Draco smirked to himself slightly as Theo blanched and admitted he'd forgotten they even had a Potions essay due for Snape at the end of the break. That really settled the debate for him. If Granger was as apparently hooked on him as he seemed to be getting on her, so much so that she would consider fucking him again after what had happened, then he couldn't turn her down. He thought about it briefly, imaging spiting her that way.

But he couldn't do it. Not when she looked so delectable with his mark on her neck and indecision in her eyes. She knew it was as wrong and as fucked up as he did. She wouldn't let herself get emotionally invested or attached the way any other witch he considered an arrangement for casual sex with might have done. No, Granger would be all logical and clinical thinking. Hell, he could almost imagine the witch rationalising to herself that human beings, especially teenagers, were sexually active beings with needs.

That the two of them shagging was explosive and gratifying. That they would be entirely discreet. Bloody hell, if there was anyone in the world least likely to ruin her reputation by bragging about fucking her and letting on to the world what a tart she was, it was Draco. Similarly he didn't need to worry about her blabbing to her girlfriends since she didn't seem to have any and telling Potter and Weasley would be the equivalent of signing her own death certificate. Logically, Draco was a fine choice for her sexual needs.

Settling himself with the knowledge that she would undoubtedly reach the same conclusion he had, Draco strode the rest of the way over to meet his parents.

"Father," he greeted, shaking his father's hand and smirking at the man before embracing his mother, "Mother."

"Heard the news?" Lucius asked him immediately and Draco grinned cruelly.

"Imagine my surprise this morning when Potter and the Weasleys were nowhere to be found on school grounds," Draco replied, practically purring with amusement over what had befallen Arthur Weasley.

Draco had known all about the fact that Nagini had been sent into the Ministry to receive some kind of weapon the Dark Lord had his loyal followers – Lucius included – trying to recover. It was heavily guarded deep in the Department of Mysteries and the Order had been taking turns on watch to keep the Dark Lord from getting it, though Draco didn't yet know what it was.

"They were gone?" Lucius asked sharply, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder and leading him out of the station.

"Yeah, Umbridge was in an uproar about it. Don't know yet how they knew what had happened to the idiot, but they were gone from Hogwarts before breakfast this morning and she was furious."

"The Dark Lord is baffled by how quickly the alarm was raised. They say he'll live," Lucius informed Draco, frowning, "Most interesting that Dumbeldore knew almost immediately what had become of Weasley senior and thought to remove Potter and the Weasley children from Hogwarts."

Draco watched the sly gleam come into his father's eyes.

"I tried to find out how they'd known and why they'd been rushed from the school so quickly," Draco offered, trying to please his father, "They forgot to take Potter's mudblood with them, but when I cornered her about it she didn't have anything to offer on the matter."

"How unfortunate," Lucius drawled though he didn't look very surprised. He put very little faith in the ability of a mudblood to have any use whatsoever. Draco chose to stay mum on why she'd been left behind and about the fact that the bitch was still besting him academically, much to his shame. For a girl with filthy blood who was supposed to be inferior to him in every conceivable way, she certainly had an annoying knack for outdoing him in a classroom and making him look bad.

Something he was thinking he might have to take out on her in the near future by bending her over a desk and spanking the little bitch. That would show her not to outdo him and get him in trouble with his father. Draco smirked cruelly as he climbed into the car with his parents in order to the return to Malfoy Manor for the Christmas holidays.

Yes, come the new term that uppity little mudblood was going to learn her place. He was going to make sure that for the rest of her natural life she knew that belonged under him and enduring whatever means of humiliation, torture, or pleasure he deigned to deliver.


	6. Chapter 6:Weighing the Options

**A/N: I'm so pleased you've all been enjoying this fic! Thanks so much for the reviews, my sweet cherubs. Now I should warn you that this chapter involves some very hands-off parenting. And I don't care if it seems unrealistic. Some parents are like Hermione's Mum in this. Deal with it. Keep the reviews coming. Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Weighing the Options**

* * *

Hermione Granger crept into the hotel bedroom where she was staying with her parents in France for their skiing holiday. Her Dad was out in the living room of their suite watching something on the tele – some sport that called for shouting at the television even though he was watching it with French commentary and didn't speak a lick of the language and so didn't understand the words.

Her mother was reclining on the bed with a book on her lap.

"Hello darling," Jean Granger greeted her with a warm smile when she noticed Hermione skulking into the room, "Tired of listening to Dad shout at the tele?"

"No," Hermione admitted, with a fond chuckle "If he understood the commentary he'd know he's wasting his time on most of it. I miss the sound of him arguing with the tele when I'm away at school or with my friends."

"Come here," her mother patted the bed beside her, "You've been unusually quiet all week since you came home. What's the matter?"

Hermione sighed as she crawled up on the bed next to the woman and snuggled into her side.

"I did something stupid," Hermione admitted to her mother.

"This is about a boy, isn't it?" Jean Granger asked her knowingly, "You haven't been this quite since you first mentioned that things with you and Viktor were heating up."

"I know," Hermione sighed, "And yes, it's about a boy."

"Not Viktor?" Jean confirmed.

"Not, though I still keep in contact with him. With him travelling the world for his career and me away at school – not to mention living on different continents, it just wasn't conducive, but he's a lovely man."

"I enjoyed him when you brought him to visit us before you went to Bulgaria during the summer," Jean admitted, "Even if he was very surly. It was clear he adored you."

"I know," Hermione smiled.

"Well, if it's not that things are back on with Viktor, then is it Ronald?" Jean asked her,

Hermione laughed, "No. Ron still thinks of me as one of the boys, though at least he recognises that I'm female these days, even if he continues to treat me like I'm incapable of being feminine."

"Harry perhaps?" her mother asked grinning when Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No. Heavens, no!" Hermione said, "Not it's not Harry either. He's like the brother I never had. You can rest easy knowing there will never be anything romantic between Harry and I, Mum."

"Well which other boys are there in your life who you might fancy, my darling daughter?" her mum asked her curiously, "I never hear you talking about any of the other boys in your life with much frequency."

"Well see, that's the thing…" Hermione said before glancing at her mother, "I don't fancy this one. I despise him."

"Oh dear," Jean said, closing her book and setting it aside, "Are we talking want to kick him types of hate or pull his face off and rub salt in the mess left behind?"

"We're talking cut him into itty bitty pieces and gleefully feed them to alligators. And the feeling is mutual," Hermione told her, "I loathe him so much that I strive to outdo him in every class."

"And yet you said you've done something stupid? With him?" Jean asked, smiling gently, just waiting for Hermione to spill her secrets and admit what she'd done.

She and her mother had always been close. Growing up as an only child – a weird one who exhibited signs of magic from a young age and so was shunned by her peers – meant Hermione had turned to the adults in her life to be her friends. She adored both of her parents tremendously and she had no secrets from her mother. Hermione tended to sugar-coat things about just how awful the war was beginning to be in the wizarding world, but everything else was fair game for discussion with her mother.

That included boys, sex, contraception, crushes and every other feeling she had or silly thing she did.

"He kissed me. Malfoy – that's his name – Draco Malfoy," Hermione blurted out her secret, "He got stuck under some mistletoe – at school it's bewitched to trap students under it until they're kissed so they can be set free. Anyway, I wasn't paying attention and I walked right into him while he was trapped under a frond of mistletoe. He snogged me to free himself."

"Once is an accident," Jean nodded her head, looking sympathetic.

"Twice is a mistake," Hermione repeated the mantra, also nodding, "But Mum… we're at thrice."

"Oh dear," Jean said, giggling in spite of the dour expression on Hermione's face.

"I don't know what to do. I literally hate him so much it makes me feel sick sometimes. But when I'm snogging him…" Hermione trailed off, trying to quantify how things were with Malfoy.

"It feels like every fiery, passionate notion you've ever read about or heard of suddenly makes sense?" Jean guessed intuitively, "Like your whole body is alive with warmth and feelings you don't even know what to do with?"

"Yes,. Exactly that," Hermione said, nodding her head at the description and thinking it perfect "And throughout the entire thing I still hate him so much that I probably wouldn't even help him up if he fell down. He kissed me just before the end of term and… well, I get the feeling that he wants to do it again when term resumes."

"Well do you want to kiss him again, darling?" her mother asked her.

Hermione bit her lip.

"I…" Hermione began, sighing heavily and running a hand through her tussled curls, "It's a bit more complicated than that. He's wretched, Mum. Positively wretched. My friends all hate him and if they knew what I've been doing with him they'd never forgive me."

"You've never been one to let the opinion of others colour your judgement, sweetheart," Jean reminded her, "Even when you were a little girl you never concerned yourself with what other people thought of you."

"Yes but this is different. You don't understand, Mum. He's… I've told you about the blood prejudice and the stuff that the war is sparking over…. Well his family is firmly on the side of the evil-doers. He shares their opinions. He loathes me because I'm a witch even though you and Dad aren't magical. If I were to be captured by the bad guys – the Death Eaters – and dragged before them to be tortured, he wouldn't help me. His father is already a Death Eater and I know that when the time comes, Draco will follow in his father's footsteps."

Jean's expression changed ever so slightly at Hermione's elaboration. Hermione didn't like to scare her parent's too much with the details of the war, but she kept them appraised of the basics.

"If he's as bad as all that, Hermione, then it might not be wise to continue associating with him in any capacity," her mum told her quietly, "But if he's not as bad as you believe he might grow to be, then it's not unreasonable to think that a good influence like yours might be beneficial to this young man."

"Yeah, but I'm not talking about dating him, Mum," Hermione sighed, "I'm…"

"I do not delude myself, darling daughter, that you are virginal and chaste. You're sixteen years old and while I can't say I approve the idea of casual sex, I know you've had sex with Viktor. And you told me about that boy over the summer. I assume you've slept with this boy, Draco, as well?"

"You're not mad at me?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows, "I know you expect better of me."

"Sweetheart I was a teenager in the seventies. I hardly have a leg to stand on regarding telling you how you should be living your life when it comes to sex, drugs and rock and roll," her mother reminded her, "And I know from personal experience that there are some boys out there in the world who can just make you ache with how badly you want them to touch you."

"Malfoy certainly does that," Hermione muttered, her cheeks turning pink as she spoke of it. Her mother had always been her closest confidant and Hermione had told her everything about the boys in her life. She'd told her about the first time she'd kissed Viktor and when they'd had sex. She'd told her mother when she'd shagged that boy during the summer.

"Well darling, while I don't recommend the idea of skulking around with bad boys who sound like they're destined to join some murderous gang, I won't discourage you if it's what you want to do. I know you're smart enough to make your own choices. I know what it's like to meet a boy who is all wrong for you and to want to pursue something with him, even if he's a wretched little sod."

"But how do I decide, Mum?" Hermione asked her, "I know he would never tell anyone. His friends and family would literally murder him if they found out he'd ever laid a finger on me. My friends will probably disown me if they ever find out I've snogged him. But… snogging him felt good. I don't want to betray my friends and I don't want to lie to them. But I feel like I want to explore this mess with Malfoy just the same."

Jean smoothed her hand over Hermione's hair carefully.

"You don't have to tell them, darling. Discretion is important and if you and this Malfoy boy can both come to some arrangement where you can keep it all a secret – and you're being safe – then I don't see why anyone has to know."

"You realise your currently encouraging me to form an arrangement for causal sex with the wizarding equivalent of... I don't know, Bohdi in _Point Break_ , right Mum?" Hermione asked the woman.

"I do," her mother chuckled at the analogy, "And while I don't think it's a good idea to be lying to everyone you love and associating with someone who doesn't care about your wellbeing, it seems to me that he feels _something_ for you."

"Are you suggesting that I honeypot myself into trying to change his mind and sway him from the war and the Death Eater life, Mum?" Hermione asked her, shocked at her words.

"If you can make him a better person, it might be worth it," her mother shrugged, "Besides, every spark of attraction has the potential to grow into something more. If it didn't fizzle after the first time the two of you were together then it could very well be something real, sweetheart. Explore it, if that's what you want to do."

"Even though it means I'm betraying my friends?" she asked, "He's horrible to us. All the time."

"The beauty of adulthood, my dear, is that you are responsible for every choice you make. If you choose to sleep with the Malfoy boy and it bites you in the arse, you'll have to deal with it. Be it through the loss of your friends or something else. I can't tell you whether or not you should do it, Hermione. You're a big girl now. If you're old enough to be having sex then you're old enough to accept those consequences," her mother told her, "Now, lay out for me what you believe the consequences will be if you do this?"

Hermione smiled ever so slightly as her mother handed her a notepad and a pen to write down the potential risks of shagging Malfoy. The woman knew her too well.

"Well, I could get pregnant," Hermione said quietly, "Which would be a disaster. But I'm back on the pill and there are charms we can use to prevent pregnancy."

"I'm not ready to be a grandmother, so take that potential consequence very seriously sweetheart," her mother told her, patting her leg affectionately and Hermione giggled at her words.

"Right. The rest of the consequences will really only come into play if we get found out. If Harry and Ron found out they'd be furious with me. They might even call me a traitor and never speak to me again. And if anyone on Malfoy's side of things finds out they literally might murder him. He could be disowned by his ridiculously wealthy parents. His friends would all call him a blood traitor for being with a muggleborn. We could both end up friendless and shunned by our peers."

"If you get caught," Jean pointed out, "What about the other consequences of simply engaging in sexual acts."

"You mean diseases?" Hermione asked, "There are charms for that too, so it wouldn't be an issue as long as we use them."

"What else?" Jean prodded her, "You're only focusing on potentially negative consequences."

Hermione nibbled her bottom lip as she realised her mother was right. There were other potential risks of sleeping with Malfoy. What if they grew fond of one another? What if she grew fond of him and began to fancy him? He'd never fall for her. She could end up heartbroken over the git. Not that she anticipated falling for him. But she'd be an idiot not to consider the effects of repeated contact with him. She knew that sex was intimate and that it could lead to them interacting and possibly growing to care for one another.

She jotted those risks down as well while her mother smiled at her knowingly. She supposed that if she were considering the notion of her falling for him, it wasn't entirely preposterous to consider that he could fall for her. That could change the entire outcome of the war. If he switched sides. If he changed his tune and decided to join the Order or even simply abandoned the Death Eater path he was currently headed for, it could change everything. She wrote those things down too.

"You forgot one potential outcome, Hermione," her mother told her when she gave her the list.

"What was it?" Hermione asked, watching the woman write it down.

When she took it back she read what her mother had written. That there was every chance they might simply shag without any of those things happening. They might have sex until the flame between them burned out and then they might go their separate ways at the end of their sexual interludes without consequence. No having anyone find out. No developing feelings for one another. No risking the loss of friends or family. No change of allegiances from either of them.

Just the scratching of an itch until the irritation was gone.

"You really think it will be that simple?" Hermione asked her mother doubtfully as she eyed the final option written on the list.

"Nothing is ever simple. If you want to achieve that outcome you two will need to be open with each other about things. Not using each other to glean information for the other side. Not antagonising one another into accidentally or purposely revealing what you're doing. Not judging each other for the things you each must do and say when you're not alone together. Do you think you can do that?"

Hermione frowned at the idea. Could she do it? If Malfoy took the Dark Mark – if they were still shagging by then – could she continue to shag him without judging him for his choice. If he willingly became her enemy upon the battlefield, could she put aside her hatred long enough to shag him. No questions asked. No hurt feelings. No protests. She doubted it. If she saw that brand on his arm, she doubted she could ever shag him again.

Merlin, some of the things he said and did were wretched. He claimed she was a mudblood. Foul. Dirty. Scum in his eyes. Yet he wanted to fuck her. That much was clear. Similarly Hermione felt the same way about him. He might be fit as all get-out but he was also an arrogant, elitist bastard whose corpse she would step over without blinking. What it all boiled down to at the end of the day was that she wanted to shag him again and she suspected he wanted to shag her again.

Merlin, for all she knew he wasn't contemplating this as hard as she was. He might've decided to say to hell with the idea, he'd rather not risk it.

"Mum, why are you being so calm about this?" Hermione asked of her mother rather than thinking about it further, "You're the parent. Aren't you supposed to be disapproving and cautioning me against being a slag?"

"It hardly makes you a slag to be sleeping with one boy Hermione," her mother rolled her eyes, "And I'm trying to be supportive because I don't want you to have any regrets. I don't want you to get to my age one day in some comfortable marriage with a child or two of your own, only to still be wondering how your life might've been different if you'd followed you heart and tried things with the boy everyone told you was trouble…. I just… I know what it's like to have regrets like that, darling."

Hermione stared at her mother as she looked away.

"When I was your age there was a boy I fancied. A boy I was attracted to and wanted to pursue things with. We snogged a few times, but it never went any further than that. Do you know why?" her mother said quietly.

Hermione shook her head, shocked to learn such a thing about her mother.

"He was a little bit older than me and he was the epitome of bad-boy. My parents disapproved. My friends all disliked him. He was from the wrong side of the tracks. A rotten family. An all-around bad person, if I'm being completely honest. By the time I'd met him he had a few black marks on his record and he was trouble with a capital T. And as much as I wanted to give things a try with him – as much as he wanted to give it a go with me – we never did. I snogged him three times and that was it. My family would have disowned me. My friends would have written me off as a lost cause. I'd have risked everything I knew. And I didn't do it because I was too scared."

Her mother looked into her eyes for a long moment, and Hermione could see that whoever the boy she spoke of was, he'd been important to her. He'd been someone she could have fallen in love with. Someone she still thought about sometimes.

"I was too scared and so I let it go. I went to college to study dentistry. I met your Dad and fell for him. We got married and I had you and we've built this wonderful life together. And I love it. I couldn't be happier than I am with how my life turned out, sweetheart…" her mother bit her lip, her eyes begging Hermione to understand, "But I would be lying if I said there isn't a part of me that doesn't still wonder how things might have been different if I'd been a little braver and tried things with Jimmy."

Hermione nodded her head slowly.

"I don't know how much use that is to you, darling," her mother smiled weakly, "But I want us to always be honest with each other. I didn't try things with him and now I wonder about what it would've be like if I had. I probably wouldn't have you and your father. Or maybe I would. I don't know. But I still wonder every now and then what it would have been like if I'd slept with that boy. If I'd pursued something with him. I'm not saying that it's the right thing to do for you to pursue a sexual relationship with this boy of Malfoy. But I don't want you to look back at your life when your my age, wondering how it could have been if you had. Maybe nothing will come of it. Maybe you'll shag a few times, get it out of your systems and move on. Maybe you'll change your life, or his, for the better."

Hermione pondered everything she had said very carefully.

"I don't want it to change my life, Mum," she said finally, "I want to try things with him. Merlin, do I want to. But how do I do it without having it explode in our faces? Without letting it ruin my life if anyone finds out? Without one or both of us either falling for, or loathing the other?"

Jean carded her hands through Hermione's curls again.

"You make sure that the two of you communicate exactly what it's to be and how it will work. You communicate to ensure it's organised in a way that will keep anyone from finding out. If you really only want to have sex with him for the purpose of getting him out of your system – looking past the hatred and the complications the two of you have by being on different sides of the war – then you need to find a way to make sure that the sex doesn't affect any other aspect of your life and no other aspect of your life affects the sex. Communicate with him exactly what it is you want and what he wants and go from there. Walk away when you can't handle it anymore."

"You realise you're advising me on how best to be a lying, promiscuous little tart, don't you?" Hermione asked her.

"Baby, in your world you're legally an adult at seventeen. You might only be sixteen in literal years, but you've always been mature for your age and you've always had a level head on your shoulders. You don't rush headlong into situations unless Harry Potter is involved and you think things through thoroughly before acting. Now, I'm not suggesting you go running off and shagging every boy in your school, but if this one has gotten under your skin enough that he's become a habit then I don't think there is anything wrong with finding out what might come of it."

"Shouldn't you be telling me to focus on my exams, study hard and keep out of trouble?"

"I've never needed to tell you those things, Hermione," Jean chuckled. "You study hard because you want to be the best person you can be and because you're so inquisitive. You've already got your exam timetable prepared and have been following it religiously. And keeping out of trouble is overrated."

Hermione laughed at her mother's answer, shaking her head when Jean proceeded to wiggle her eyebrows mischievously.

"Look darling, think carefully about what you want from this boy. Discuss it with him and make sure the two of you understand what this is all about. If you decide not to sleep with him or speak to him ever again, so be it. But don't refrain because of what anyone other than the two of you might think about it. Do what's right for you."

"What's right for me ought to be keeping my friends by not betraying them and sleeping with the enemy," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh sweetheart, you're still in high school. If your friends would really be so betrayed by the idea of you being with someone they don't like then maybe they're asking too much of your friendship and maybe they're not as decent as they ought to be. Would they consult you before sleeping with someone, even if she was someone you didn't like?"

Hermione supposed the woman had a point. She didn't think either Harry or Ron had lost their virginity yet, but she didn't imagine they would ask her opinion of the girl before doing so. Harry fancied Cho Chang and while Hermione wasn't big on her as a person, she would never abandon her friendship with him over it. Ron changed his crush on a weekly basis to whoever seemed the prettiest, so she doubted he would ever ask her opinion were he to decided that Daphne Greengrass was pretty enough to want to shag.

Then again, none of the girls either of them might ever consider sleeping with were as horrible as Malfoy. No one was a horrible as Malfoy. Except maybe his father and Voldemort.

Hermione sighed as she resolved to think about it in much more depth. She kissed her mother's cheek and took her list with her, telling her she would ponder it over a shower. She needed to think hard about this and try to find some way to make it work. She knew she wanted to shag him again. She wouldn't be considering this mess if she didn't. She just didn't want to get caught.


	7. Chapter 7: On Tenterhooks

**A/N: Look how I spoil you with frequent updates! Thanks so much for all the love you've been giving me guys. It's so sweet of you. I'm pleased you all adore Jean Granger in this as much as I do and I can't wait to see what you think of this delightful window into Draco's holidays and his thoughts. Don't forget to pop a review down there for me to tell me what you think ;-) Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 7: On Tenterhooks**

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Draco shoved Daphne Greengrass off his lap when he was done with her before tucking himself back into his trousers. It hadn't helped. His parents had held their annual Yule Ball at the Manor and everyone who was anyone was in attendance. He'd just gotten through with shagging Daph again and it hadn't helped in the slightest to take the edge off how badly he wanted to fuck Granger again. This was getting to be bloody ridiculous!

Sighing heavily, Draco frowned as he carded his fingers through his now-messy blonde hair, trying to get the scent of Daph's perfume out of his nose and the wine-sweet flavour of her tongue out of his mouth. He didn't want that taste. He wanted the taste of Pepper Imps and all the heat of one fiery little mudblood.

He was fucking pathetic. That's what he was. Pathetic and a complete bloody fool. He should never have laid a hand on that damned mudblood. If he hadn't, he'd never have ended up in this mess where he constantly thought about fucking her and plotted how best to lure her back into his clutches until the ache in his groin went away.

"One day you're going to tell me who put that look on your face, Draco," Daph warned him as her skirts fell back into place, covering the fact that she wasn't wearing knickers – something she'd used to lure him in here in the first place.

"What look?" he asked, glancing up at the willowy blonde witch as she watched him with intrigue.

"The look that says that even though you just shagged me bow-legged and ought to be basically comatose right now, you instead look like someone just offered you a glass of arsenic and vomit when what you really want is some nice hot chocolate," she replied, "I don't know what's going on with you, but I can assure you no-one else I've shagged has ever looked like that when I'm through with them."

"And just how many people are you shagging again?" he sneered.

She smirked at his attempt as misdirection.

"That's hardly your business. The point is that you look like you're looking for something in particular and you didn't get it from me," she informed him, "Got some twisted new tastes between the sheets you'd care to share with the class?"

Draco sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.

"I don't share, Daph," he reminded her, "Ever."

"None of us ever do," she replied quietly, "But honestly Draco, if there's something else you're looking for that you think I might be able to help you with, you can tell me. I'll let you know whether or not I'm up for it. Theo likes to choke me when he shags me."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm not interested in asphyxiation, Daph," he assured her.

What he was interested in was Granger and how bloody hot under the collar she made him. He suspected it had to do with how forbidden she was. He wasn't supposed to touch her. He wasn't supposed to snog her or fuck her. And that somehow made it hotter. That and she was a fiery little hell-cat who clawed the fuck out of him and got rough with him and took everything she wanted from him without asking and without complicating it.

Daph's very offer to do whatever he might like to try in the bedroom only made her less appealing to him. He didn't want to just blindly be given everything. He'd been given everything he wanted his entire bloody life and it made it seem worthless somehow. He wanted to have to take it. He wanted to have to earn it.

"Well if it's not a particular kink your indulging," Daph said slowly, "Then it must not be about what you like in bed so much as about who your feel like doing it to. Are you no longer interested in shagging me?"

"Did I say that?" he asked her, refusing to admit that she was only a fuck of convenience. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. Daph was a pretty decent bird. She didn't let emotion colour her sexual appetite and she was up for most things. She was even decent outside the sack.

"No. You never say anything anymore, Draco," she told him, "I'm just saying… if there's something or someone in particular that you want, maybe you should go after it rather than trying to find it in all the wrong places."

"You think you're the wrong place?" he asked, looking up at her from the couch in the drawing room.

"If I weren't you wouldn't be wearing that expression," she shrugged her shoulders, "Think about it and let me know."

She carded her fingers through his hair before she turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the marble floors. That was Daph. She wouldn't be offended one way or the other that he'd fucked her trying to scratch the itch Granger had created. She wouldn't care if he fucked her again, trying to scratch the same itch and failing. And if he asked her to do something dirty, he imagined she'd accommodate him.

Not that he hadn't considered it a time or two. Theo's penchant for asphyxiation was something his best friend had discussed with him more than once in the past. Draco had also undergone the same kind of sexual initiation every boy of pureblood descent went through, involving a wide and varied collection of sexual and pleasurable endeavours. His father had paid some witches expressly trained in the arts of pleasure to expand his horizons and open his eyes to all the dirty things one person could do to another.

A Christmas gift, Lucius had called it.

All in all it had been a very busy holiday season for Draco, if he was being honest. And while he'd enjoyed the instruction in the art of sex and all its trimmings, he still wasn't satisfied. Tying a witch up and tormenting her sexually had amused him. Flogging someone had seemed rather dull, in his opinion. If he was being honest the things that had appealed to him most were the types of things he imagined Granger would do to him or let him do to her.

And since he barely knew the witch and had only fucked her once, there hadn't been that many things. Oh he was still curious about some things and would give most of them another go if he could. But mostly he just wanted to pin that ridiculous fucking mudblood to any flat surface and fuck her until he forgot his own name.

It was becoming a problem and he was going to have to do something about convincing the little bitch to fuck him again when term commenced. The idea of seeing her in class and not being able to fuck her bugged him. Every fucking morning he kept waking up to sticky sheets and it was getting out of hand. Every night he dreamed about how he'd fucked her and how she'd felt against him. He felt like he was addicted to the witch and he didn't know what to do about it.

He needed to lock this shit down. It wouldn't do to go pining after the bitch the way he had been. He didn't know what he was going to do if she declined the idea of being enemies with benefits.

At least he still had that much clear. Shagging her hadn't endeared him to her or vice versa. If she agreed to shagging him with any kind of regularity, it would only be as two people scratching the same itch. He might've conceded that he thought she was sexy and that when she'd been up against the door in that classroom the other night she'd been beautiful, but he didn't fancy her and he didn't think he ever could. He just wanted to fuck her until he couldn't move and didn't feel like dealing with anything else.

He certainly had no interest in dating her. She was insufferable and annoying. The only interest he had in her was physical and if she agreed to shag him, it would be just that and nothing more. Hell, he didn't even want to talk to her while he did it.

Scrubbing his hands over his face again, Draco joined the party once more. He wasn't at all enjoying the evening and despite having just had meaningless sex, he was utterly bored and beyond frustrated. As soon as he could manage it without insulting the other guests and without upsetting his mother and father, Draco bailed on the party and retired to his bedroom suite. He sighed when he reached it, locking the door to keep anyone from bothering him.

A quick shower removed the scent of Daph's perfume from his body and Draco crawled into bed wearingly only his boxers. He drifted off to dreams of instead fucking that vicious little mudblood and he could practically taste the Pepper Imp flavour of her tongue against his.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When school resumed, Draco was ready to kill her. She had ignored the way he'd tried to catch her eye when he'd spotted her on the platform before boarding the train with Potty and all the bloody Weasleys. In fact she hadn't given any hint that she even knew he was alive. She hadn't gone out of her way to avoid looking at him or anything. She'd just acted as though he weren't there at all. As though she didn't recognise that he was even alive.

That had driven him mad. He needed to talk to her, curse it all! He needed to find out whether or not she was up for fucking him on a regular basis or if he needed to find some other way to deal with the almost constant fantasies he had about the little swot.

When they'd switched patrol duties on the train during, she'd drawled her way through passing on the messages about the first and second year students in the middle of the train that she'd already busted once for being rowdy with magic, warning him to check on them again. She hadn't exhibited any clue to the fact that they'd shagged before the holidays began. She hadn't shown any hint that she'd done anything more intimate with him than breathing the same air and attending the same school.

If he didn't know better he might think she'd decided the simply pretend none of it had happened and that he didn't exist. She barely looked at him on the train after passing on the messages before following Weaselbee off to the compartment with her friends. Draco had gritted his teeth and bit his tongue, refusing to let her get to him. No matter how badly he wanted to grab her by that wildly curly hair and pin her to the wall so he could snog her until he couldn't think straight.

During the feast he'd caught her watching him only once, but it had been with a slightly sneering sort of frown on her face as though the very sight of him disgusted her and he'd begun to think she wasn't going to ever shag him again.

Not that he'd technically asked her or propositioned her about it. She hadn't indicated one way or the other what she intended to do before retiring to Gryffindor Tower that night and Draco had heard her chastising her friends when they grumbled about incomplete homework due the next morning. He'd been hoping to find some way to get her alone so he could drill her about what the hell was going on between the two of them, but he didn't dare.

He didn't want to risk being caught by any of his friends and he had to be careful to ensure none of them had noticed him paying any attention to her. His past habit of spying on Potter and his friends came in handy in that regard, but Draco didn't want to push his luck. He'd have to find some way to catch her alone where he could find out one way or the other if she was going to let him use her like a sex-toy whenever it suited him or if he was going to have to kill someone.

Now he was sitting in Charms and watching the little witch as she completed their assignment with ease, easily vanishing all the pillows Potter and Weasley threw at her. She was laughing and enjoying herself about it and Draco wanted to lob something much heavier at her just to see how she would react.

"Oi, watch this!" Pansy sneered to him, having gotten over her bad mood with him from before the holidays. She was fickle that way.

Draco watched as she picked up one of the many textbooks that Professor Flitwick kept to stand on behind his desk before hurling it in the direction of Potter, Weasley and Granger. She began to laugh much too soon for Draco's thinking, something that became clear when Granger waved her wand and stopped the book in mid-air. Potter and Weasley turned towards the Slytherin group furiously, scowling like they would hex them all, but Granger beat them too it. She created twelve duplicates of the book hovering in front of her before waving her wand to transfigure them slightly so they looked like arrow-heads made form books.

Pansy shrieked when Granger flicked her wand again and sent them all hurling back through the air much faster than Pansy expected.

"Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick asked in his squeaky voice, seeming nervous and Draco watched the slow smirk slip across Granger's face.

"Yes Professor?" she asked, having halted the books once more in mid-air, all of them surrounding Pansy threateningly, their sharp points aimed at her wickedly.

"A very effective use of the Duplication Charm, Levitation Charm and Shield Charm," Professor Flitwick commended her, "But this is not Defence Against the Dark Arts, so I must ask that you do not use defensive magic on your classmates."

Draco watched as her smirk grew wider, turning into an uncanny replication of Draco's own signature expression. Gods he wanted to fuck her.

"Of course, sir," Granger agreed with the professor. Pansy cried out in surprise when all the books dropped out of the air, many of them hitting the pug-nosed witch as they fell to the floor. As soon as they hit the floor they all vanished, but for the original book Pansy had thrown, which bounced off Pany's head with a hollow sounding thud before landing face up on the floor at Pansy's feet.

Draco had to turn away to hide his smirk of amusement as everyone laughed at the witch for trying to get one up on the brightest witch in their year. Flitwick's less than reprimanding response would no doubt get him in some trouble with Umbridge later when Pansy tattled, but Draco couldn't help his snort of amusement. It was more than clear that the rest of the school was fed up with Umbridge and with any who sided with her by being on the Inquisitorial Squad.

Draco also got the message loud and clear that the duelling club thing Granger and Potter were running was clearly proving very effective indeed. He didn't doubt the witch could fly rings around Pansy when it came to wielding magic.

"Did you see what she did?" Pansy was screeching to her friends, clearly getting good and frothy with rage over being made a fool of. As though she hadn't started the fight. Pansy had always been a sore loser. Another reason Draco despised her so much. Not that he was much better, of course, but he didn't go on about it at length anymore. Not the way Pansy did. Not after he'd realised what a ponce it made him seem.

"What did you expect when you tried throwing a book at Granger?" Theo asked, rolling his eyes, "That was just thick, Pansy."

"Thick?" she demanded, "What? You think she's a better witch than me? Is that it? That filthy little mudblood rates higher with you than I do?"

Theo began to laugh cruelly.

"Being a mudblood hasn't detracted from her ability to wield magic, you stupid bint. Granger's the brightest witch in our year. If Flitwick hadn't intervened she'd have really schooled you on how to properly cast spells," Theo informed her.

"Yeah," Daphne spoke up, "And she actually used magic to retaliate. You threw that book at her like some filthy muggle, Pansy. Get your act together!"

Pansy's cheeks began to burn a furious shade of red and she made an incoherent sound of rage before she stormed out of the classroom and slammed the door behind her. Potter, Weasley and Granger all began to laugh at the hilarity as she left.

Draco, on the other hand was once again watching the curly haired witch he was so interested in shagging. When the bell rang to signal the end of their classes for the day, he watched her and her friends pack up their things and leave the room, traipsing towards Gryffindor Tower. He was scowling fiercely by the time dinner rolled around, having shouted his way through Quidditch training in a rage of his own.

The witch was too good at acting like he didn't exist. It was driving him up the wall and he needed to find out whether or not she was through with him or if she intended to let him have his wicked way with her whenever he liked. He also needed to snog the little bitch again or he might literally kill someone.

"Why are you in such a foul mood, Draky?" Pansy simpered at him while he scarfed down his dinner and plotted how best to catch Granger alone so he could demand answers.

"Get off me, Pans," Draco growled, shrugging the pug-nosed witch off where she'd wrapped herself around him like an octopus.

"What's gotten your wand in a knot?" she wanted to know, sitting a little further back so that she wasn't in his lap but nonetheless still pressed annoyingly close to him. Some days sharing a continent with her was too bloody close.

"My wand wasn't in a knot until you opened your mouth," he retorted coldly, elbowing her away from him so he could eat his dinner in peace.

"You're such a…" Pansy hissed, her eyes flashing at him in annoyance, though she bit her tongue before spitting out insults that would only bite her in the arse later when Draco decided to get even with her.

She flounced off down the table to sit with Daphne, Millicent and Tracy, shooting him a poisonous look over her shoulder as though Draco might run after her and beg her forgiveness for being short with her. She was entirely too spoiled and thick for him to ever consider it. He loathed that in a witch. If she thought he was ever going to stop being such a wanker to her, Pansy Parkinson was in for a very rude awakening.

"You are in a foul mood," Blaise commented, watching Draco throw down his knife and fork.

"Fuck off Zabini," Draco growled.

"And feisty too," Zabini clicked his tongue in amusement, "What's the matter Draco? Get a letter from home today?"

Draco ignored the git, though a letter from home would certainly do as an excuse to put him in a foul mood. His father might very well be his idol, but Draco loathed being reminded of the need to study for his OWLs and to do better in his classes in order to outdo Granger and her overachieving, brown-nosing grades that had kept him second in their grade all through school so far.

"I'm going to have a shower," Draco retorted, pushing away from the table and stalking out of there in his Quidditch uniform, not at all in the mood to be analysed by his friends.

"I'll take that as a yes," Zabini called after him and Draco flipped him off over his shoulder. Theo laughed as he fell into step beside Draco on the way back to the common room.

"More urgings from Home about being sure to suck up to Umbridge and to outdo the fucking mudblood?" Theo mused, "Because that's what I got all fucking holidays."

Draco glanced sideways at his best friend, knowing that like Lucius, Theo's father was also a branded Death Eater and so had appearances to hold up through his son. The Dark Lord was already angling to brand the pair of them, Draco knew.

"Did you also get drilled over not doing a better job out beating out one fucking mudblood with her fucking ridiculous hair and the ability to wield rings around all of us superior purebloods?" Draco asked of the boy.

Theo smirked at him before adopting the annoying tone of voice that his mother so often used.

"Theodore, why is a mudblood better at Charms than you?" he asked in a high pitched tone "Theodore, pleases explain what the meaning of this is? You're only third in your grade? How can that be? Theodore, mudbloods are inferior to us in every way, do tell us how one happens to be besting you academically. Is she better at magic than you are Theodore?"

Draco chuckled at the way Theo sneered his own name, knowing Theo hated the way his mother always called him by his full name and the way she nagged on and on about his grades and the fact that he wasn't besting Granger. Draco knew she nagged Theo about him not besting Draco too, but they were almost on par given that most of the time they did their homework together and checked each other's work. Adopting his own mother's simpering tone of voice, Draco played along with him.

"Draco darling, have you bested that mudblood yet? What was her name again? Granger? Yes, that's it. How is she getting better grades than you, Draco?" he said in his mother's most annoying tone.

"All fucking holiday," Theo groaned, dragging his hand through his dark hair, "I swear I'm not even going home at Easter. Fuck that shit for a joke. At least if I'm here I don't have to read their letters unless I feel like it."

"Yeah, but if you stay here you'll have to tolerate Umbridge. I heard earlier today that this year's Christmas stayover attendance was at the lowest it's been in more than five hundred years. Only one student stayed over the holidays. Some pathetic Ravenclaw firstie who'd have to go back to some orphanage if they didn't stay here," Draco told Theo as they entered the common room.

"Sucks to be that kid. Then again some days it wouldn't be so bad being a fucking orphan with parents like ours," Theo told him.

Draco laughed.

"Then we wouldn't be rich," he pointed out and Theo paused to glance at him with an expression of utter horror on his face as though the idea offended him immensely.

"Merlin, I just realised that if I were an orphan I'd have been raised by my Grandmother," he told Draco and Draco shuddered at the very idea. He'd met Theo's grandmother. The woman was utterly terrifying. His father had told him stories of the Dark Lord's cruelty and Theo's grandmother put the Dark Lord to shame. Rumour was that the Dark Lord had a thing with Theo's Grandmother in their days at Hogwarts too.

"I think I'd take the nagging," Draco told him as they descended the stairs deep beneath the lake to the fifth year boy's dormitory.

"Me too. Fuck, did you see the amount of homework we were given today?" Theo groaned, picking up his homework planner off his bed and holding up the full double page spread of homework assignments they'd been given that day in class.

"The teachers think that if they drill us hard enough at least a portion of the information will sink in and we'll all manage to pass the OWLs," Draco smirked.

"Please," Theo rolled his eyes, "I could take the OWLs right now and gets Outstandings on all of them."

"Even Defence?" Draco asked, "Fucking Umbridge is hobbling us on that front. I swear I don't even blame Potter and his band of fuckwits for creating a duelling club. Did you see Granger in class today. Whatever the fuck they're working on, it's paying off."

"I still can't believe Pansy lobbed a book at the swat like a fucking muggle. She's getting thicker by the day, I swear it. How much do you want to bet there's some troll blood somewhere in her lineage?" Theo asked him.

"With those cheekbones?" Draco raised his eyebrows, "Now if we were talking about Milly. Or maybe Vince and Greg, I'd believe it. But Pans… Nah, if anything there's maybe some Banshee or Hag, but no troll."

"No way she's actually that stupid," Theo disagreed with him.

"A lifetime's worth of playing the airhead to get Daddy's attention will dot hat to a girl," Draco smirked.

"As though you don't do your part?" Theo challenged, "I swear she's going to bust a blood vessel some days with how hard she strains to get your attention."

Draco laugh cruelly.

"Keeps her hungry for it," he smirked at his friend, "And keeping her hanging right there at my fingertips for whenever I might need to beckon her in to play."

"You're a cold hearted bastard, you know that?" Theo asked, looking amused.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, offering his hand to Theo mockingly.

"Theo Nott," Theo smirked in return, shaking his hand and knowing he was just as cold and as ruthless as Draco was.

"How much of that shit is due this week?" Draco asked, nodding at Theo's homework planner.

"All of it," Theo groaned, flopping down on his bed and covering his face with his hands as though all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Fuck. You know what this means, right?" Draco said, also groaning.

"That if we want to have any chance of knocking Granger of her fucking perch we're going to have to hit the library after showering?" Theo guessed, dragging himself back to his feet and reaching for his towel and his toiletries while Draco did the same.

"I swear we're knocking that know-it-all little swot off her perch this year Theo," Draco told him, narrowing his eyes hatefully at the thought of Granger continuing to best him.

"Damn right we are," Theo agreed, "She needs to learn her fucking place and I'm not above putting her there myself."

Draco nodded his head in agreement before letting himself into the shower and trying to scrub away the ache in his groin for the mudblood they discussed.

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 **A/N: Don't you just love Theo? I know I do. =) xx-Kitten**


	8. Chapter 8: Compartmentalization

**A/N:Thanks for the great response to this fic and a special thanks to every one of you who is reading more than one of my fics and being so generous with your reviews. You're such gems. Sorry about the wait on the new chapter, I got swamped at work and I pinched a nerve in my back, so I was in no mood for writing. Much love to all of you for being so wonderful! And I know a few of you are hanging out for updates on some of my other fics, including 'Better Dig Two', 'Howl for Me' and 'Winter Storm'. I promise they are on their way. The ones I'm updating semi-frequently at the moment are chapters I have mostly pre-written and I'm working to keep ahead of the curve on these ones with that, so that you'll have updates and completed fics in a timely fashion. I promise the others are also in the works, they're just a bit less forthcoming with cooperative inspiration. Also, keeping so many plots straight is tough sometimes. I found myself working on 'Howl for Me' the other day and blurring facts from this fic and from 'Addicted to You', so I had to stop and sort myself out before I ruined things. LOL. Thanks for being so patient with such a scatter-brained writer like me. xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Compartmentalization**

* * *

She'd made her decision. Or she thought she had. It all boiled down to the fight between wanting to shag Draco Malfoy again until she stopped tingling in all her secret places for the git, and wanting to make sure she never got caught doing so.

Not that he was making it easy. Hermione could tell he was hanging out for the answer to his unspoken proposition and she knew he'd been getting progressively angrier as the days wore on after term reconvened. He'd been making it practically impossible for her to focus and Hermione was about ready to murder him. He was being entirely too obvious, but Hermione knew no one suspected anything other than his determination to get her and her friends in trouble.

She knew because Harry had commented that he was being an even bigger git since term started again after Malfoy had managed to get several Gryffindors – Harry and Ron included – hauled before Umbridge for some small infraction. He'd been going after them with a vengeance and Hermione knew it was because he was punishing her for ignoring him. She didn't know how she knew exactly, since he was always positively rotten to them and always looking for ways to get them in trouble.

He'd docked more points from Gryffindor since term started again that they were pretty much running on zero. They would be in the negative values if not for the way the teachers were all being terribly generous with their point giving this year. Hermione had been given twenty points earlier that day simply for handing Professor Sinistra a book she asked for in class. Even Snape seemed to be feeling sorry for them because for the first time in the history of her schooling career, he'd given her three house points when she'd correctly brewed Essence of Euphoria in Potions.

McGonagall was on a warpath when it came to point-giving for her house and Hermione had laughed throughout yesterday's lesson – an all Gryffindor lesson because the Slytherins had been needed by Umbridge for something and so hauled out of class. The woman had awarded every student in her class ten points each for simply showing up to class that morning, bringing the house point listing up from the scant thirty they'd been at to well over two hundred points.

Of course when Harry and Ron had run into Malfoy and the Inquisitorial Squad yesterday afternoon on the way to Quidditch training it had dropped back down to barely one hundred points. In the spirit of keeping up appearances and trying to get her attention, Malfoy had even docked her twenty points just that morning for being a mudblood whilst in his presence. He'd taken a further ten from Harry for looking scruffy because his hair was messy and another ten from Ron because his most recent growth spurt meant his trousers were too short at the ankle and she'd yet to offer to alter them for him.

He was positively foul and the only reason she knew he was doing it was because she'd been ducking him and refusing to make up her mind about whether or not she wanted to shag him again. He never said as much, but the very pointed look he'd given her that morning while docking points had spoken volumes.

And she'd decided that, rotten as he was, she was going to shag him anyway. At least she was if they could come to some kind of arrangement. She'd been thinking about it ever since she'd had the discussion with her mum and Hermione knew the woman was right. The only way to get away with this was to make sure they were on even footing and to make sure the sex didn't affect anything outside of it. She was also determined to make sure that nothing outside of it would affect the sex.

She didn't at all fancy the idea of him blabbing about whatever happened between them in a rage should she best him in class or should Harry outstrip him on the Quidditch pitch. And given what she and Harry had been plotting about the reveal on the Death Eaters who'd been in the graveyard the night of Voldemort's return, she didn't much fancy the idea of him turning on her viciously when they indicted his father for being a Death Eater.

Hermione was still in the process of ironing out some of the finer details as she left the library late in the evening two weeks into the new term. She had her book bag slung over her shoulder and several heavy tomes inside pertaining to the homework she hadn't managed to complete before being kicked out of the library for the night. As she meandered down the corridor, her mind was jumping between the research she needed to do on the use of powered Bicorn Horn in potions for Snape, and between how exactly she could go about setting up an arrangement with Malfoy.

She was hurrying, fearing she'd be caught out after curfew and not wanting to risk it when she had already been caught three nights ago by Filch whilst on her way back to the common room after the most recent DA meeting. She'd managed to lie her way out of trouble only when Professor McGonagall had come to her rescue, saying that Hermione had been handing in an extra credit assignment to her and that the woman had kept her late by accident while discussing the project. Luckily Hermione had indeed handed in a project for extra credit that very morning because Umbridge had demanded to see it.

She'd still been given detention for being out after curfew, but only for one night. It was due to be served tomorrow night. Umbridge had tried to think of something truly terrible that Hermione could be forced to do – clearly trying to irk Harry and to retaliate over Hermione's snarky comments in class that outwitted the toad-faced woman. She'd been informed none-too-politely that she would be serving detention with Snape in the dungeons, separating frog spleens and beetle eyes from their animal body counterparts and putting them into jars.

While it was indeed a disgusting task, Hermione had kept mum on her complaints. Instead she'd decided to take advantage of the position to quiz Snape about the number of potions she was currently interested in – fully intending to drill him over the OWLs and try to glean information about what might be on the exams. She doubted he would be cooperative, and she knew the man hated it when she was annoying with her questions, but it would help pass the time.

Hermione squealed when someone's hand suddenly wrapped around her face from behind and she was hauled bodily across the corridor and into a broom closet on the sixth floor. Twisting and fighting madly, Hermione stomped on the foot of her attacker, her hand diving for her wand. Strong cold hands prevented her from making any noise to call for help and as soon as the door was pulled closed with a snap, her wrist was seized and gripped tight enough to bruise. She cursed against the hand over her mouth when she dropped her wand to the floor with a clatter. Squirming in the firm hold, Hermione managed to sink her teeth into the hand over her mouth.

"Biting just turns me on, you know?" a too-familiar voice drawled into her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Hermione froze when she realised she'd been grabbed by Malfoy.

"Are you going to scream if I move my hand?" he asked her, nipping her earlobe.

Hermione pried at the hand he had over her mouth.

"What the hell do you think you're doing assaulting me, Malfoy?" she demanded in a low voice, hoping no one had heard her squeal in surprise when he grabbed her.

"I can't exactly walk right up to you and demand a conversation with a mudblood, can I Granger?" he retorted, "Especially since you've been dodging me every other time I try to corner you."

"So you admit you've been trying to get me alone?" she asked, smirking in the dark even as she relaxed slightly in his hold.

"You admit you've been dodging me then?" he countered, refusing to answer the question.

"I have. And this might come as a surprise to you, but it's because I absolutely loathe you," Hermione sighed heavily as though she felt relieved to say it, "Gosh, it feels so good to get that off my chest. Now get your hands off me."

He nipped her earlobe in punishment for her sass and Hermione hissed. She hated the way it sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her, a fire igniting low in her belly and calling into sharp relief how long it had been since she'd been laid.

"You're a real bitch, do you know that, Granger?" he asked her but Hermione caught the slight change in his annoyed tone that suggested he was amused by her words.

"And you're the world's biggest prat. We all have our flaws Malfoy. You shouldn't hurl stones form that glass house of yours."

"Merlin your voice is annoying," he told her and Hermione squirmed in his hold again. She was acutely aware of how she was pressed firmly back against his chest and extremely aware of the solid steel pipe he seemed to be carrying in his trousers. The idea that he was hard for her titillated Hermione more than it had any right to.

"Maybe you shouldn't drag me into broom closets if you don't want to speak with me then Malfoy," she retorted.

"I've found there are much more exciting uses for broom closets than talking Granger," he sneered in return and Hermione's breath hitched when she felt one of his arms slide around her waist more firmly, pinning her arms to her sides while his free hand slipped under the hem of her shirt and smoothed across the flesh of her stomach. He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck and Hermione hated herself a little when she tilted her head to one side, allowing him better access to the sensitive skin as he nipped it before trailing a hot line of kisses down her throat.

His fingers flirted with the waistband of her skirt, threatening to travel south and Hermione had to bite her lip on the words of encouragement she wanted to utter. Gripping his thigh through his trousers, Hermione ground her arse back against the hot hard lump she could feel prodding her and she ignored his smug chuckle at her actions.

"Made a decision you'd care to share with the class, Granger?" he asked, lifting his lips from her neck to press them against her ear even as his hand slipped below her waistband and into her knickers.

"I have, actually," Hermione replied, hating how husky her voice was, "But if the class finds out I'm going to kill you."

He nipped her jaw just below her ear and Hermione hated the rush of heat that filled her up with desire. His fingers slipped towards her aching centre and Hermione huffed out a breath when he trailed them, feather-light, against her clit. He didn't say anything else to her and Hermione was only too happy not to have to listen to his smug, drawling voice as he worked two fingers inside her slick passage. She ground her arse against his groin as he did it, unable to control the way her hips rolled at the pleasure he was providing.

Hermione curled her free arm up around his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and she closed her eyes at the sensation coursing through her. Gods, he was good with his hands. The hand not pumping his fingers into her torturously crept up to cup her breast through her shirt and Hermione kind of hated herself for the low whine of pleasure that left her lips.

She could practically feel his smirk as he kissed her neck, suckling the flesh into his mouth and drawing the blood to the surface, marking her skin with a love-bite. When he suddenly pressed the pads of his fingers to the front wall inside her slick heat and began to pulse them furiously, Hermione was overcome with the sensation. Her breath hitched and she was sure her knees buckled just a little bit when he combined the entire ordeal with a circle of his thumb against her clit, entirely overwhelming her with the sensation and bringing her undone.

Her whole body shuddered with release at the orgasm he pressed upon her and Hermione twisted her head seeking the feel of his lips on hers. He kissed her hotly, releasing his hold on her enough that she could turn in his grip until her chest pressed against his and Hermione tangled both hands in his hair as she snogged him hungrily. She swallowed the groan he emitted when she ground her pelvis against the hot lump in his trousers.

Hermione felt like she'd lost her mind even as she began unbuttoning his shirt to get at the flesh beneath, his tongue tangled with hers and making her forget what she'd been thinking about before he grabbed her. Unable to resist, Hermione trailed her fingers over his taut abs, tearing her lips from his as she did so. He made a sound of protest and tried to pull her back in but Hermione wasn't having any of it.

She'd spent the entire holidays thinking about those abs and though she couldn't see them in the dark, that didn't mean she could feel them.

"Fuck, Granger," he groaned when Hermione dragged her tongue over the ridges of tight muscle on his washboard abs.

She could tell from how husky his voice was that he found it hot whenever she did this and Hermione couldn't resist doing it a second time before trailing her nose up his chest to his nipple. He hissed between his teeth when she nipped him sharply, his hands fisting her curls needily as he dragged her lips back to his and snogged her stupid.

Before she knew it she found herself pressed into the wall, her skirt hiked up over her waist and her knickers on the floor around her ankles. When he drove his cock deep inside her, Hermione moaned at how good it felt. Goddess but it had been too long since she'd been laid.

"Fuck," he cursed against her lips as Hermione dug her nails into him, urging him deeper.

In her opinion nothing felt better than that full, complete feeling of being filled up so deep she could taste it. Her body ached just a bit with the intrusion and his size, but she didn't care. She would get used to it. She intended to make a habit of this, after all. She kissed his neck hungrily as he worked into a rhythm, powering into her deep and hard.

When he lifted her against him, Hermione locked her ankles against the small of his back, clinging to his shoulders tightly and pulling at his blonde hair needily. He pounded her into the wall hard enough that she could feel her spine grating against the stone but she was too delirious with pleasure to care. Each deep thrust felt like she was being impaled with heat and fire and Hermione never wanted him to stop.

The orgasm crested within her unexpectedly as he ground his pelvis against her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Hermione moaned breathily before her whole body clamped down tightly on his, spasming and clenching while lightning flashed behind her eyelids and her mind went white as she came in his hold.

"Bloody hell," he growled out against her throat, thrusting into her harder then and Hermione felt him tense up a few minutes later, his teeth closing on her neck as he lost control. This time she made no effort to shove him out or push him away as he came with a gasp.

He leaned into her when it was over and Hermione clung to him tightly, her arms and legs wrapped around him in a stranglehold as she tried to catch her breath. His face was still buried in her neck as he panted and Hermione hated him for the way she felt so sleepy and contented.

"You're back on contraceptives, right?" he asked, still leaning into her.

"I'm not stupid," Hermione retorted, unlocking her ankles from around him and lowering her feet back to the floor.

"Thank fuck for that," he replied huskily, "Want to explain why you've been dodging me until now?"

Hermione snorted at his words, lowering her arms from around his neck and beginning to straighten her clothes. She tucked her boobs back into her bra, hiking it back up to cover them since he'd chosen to merely pull it down out of the way rather than unhitching it and taking it off her.

As she fixed her buttons, Hermione peered at him in the dark closet, trying to make out his face. Her hand groped above her head until she found the oil lamp there that she'd knocked her head on a few times. Twisting the dial at the bottom to spark the lamp, the flame leapt to life, illuminating the dusty broom closet contents and a dishevelled looking Draco Malfoy.

He blinked uncomfortably, squinting against the light after so long in the dark.

"I was avoiding you because I hadn't made a decision," Hermione informed him as she eyed the love-bite she'd left on his neck and the scratches she could see on his chest and his arms while he stood there shirtless, trying to button his trousers.

"And now you have?" he asked, watching her through hooded grey eyes.

"I…" Hermione began before she bit her lip and glanced away from him for a moment, "What exactly is it you want from me here? _This_."

She waved a finger between the two of them indicatively.

"Do you need me to spell it out for you Granger?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"I just want to be clear," Hermione replied, "My understanding is that this is to be some kind of arrangement for casual sex that no one ever finds out about. Is that your understanding?"

"You're taking all the fun out of it, Granger," he drawled, looking bored even as he began searching the floor for his shirt. Hermione blushed when he handed her the pink knickers she'd discarded.

She also slapped his bare chest to get his attention. She'd thought carefully about this.

"Don't be a sarcastic tosser for ten minutes, alright," she snapped at him, narrowing her eyes at him in annoyance, "This is barmy without you making it even more complicated by being a git."

He glared at her in return but waited in silence to see what she had to say.

"It may have escaped your notice, but this won't be easy to pull of Malfoy. It's not like we can be seen coming out of broom closets and looking well-shagged. If we're caught, we're literally both dead. Do you get that?"

"How could I not get that?" he retorted, "I stand to lose a lot more than you do if I'm ever caught with you, Granger."

"So maybe you'll pay attention and not roll your eyes like that when I lay out some ground rules so that we don't ever get caught?" she sneered, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Rules? You want to put rules on casual sex?"

"Yes. Five of them," Hermione informed him.

He raised his eyebrows and lost his smirk when he realised she meant business since she knew exactly how many rules she had and that she'd clearly thought this through beyond just throwing caution to the wind and shagging the enemy.

"Shit," he said, shaking his head slightly, "You really are anal-retentive and a complete freak about rules, aren't you Granger?"

"Oh by all means, Malfoy, please scoff at the fact that I've thought through how to get away with fucking you and not getting caught. That makes sense. You realise I can find someone a lot less difficult to be with for causal sex if I want to, right?"

He scowled at her but he didn't say anything else, clearly waiting to hear what her rules were.

"Alright, here's the deal. For this to work we have to always; _always_ ; use contraception," Hermione laid down the first rule, "That means you too."

He frowned in confusion while Hermione bent to retrieve her bag and began digging around inside it until she found the phial of contraception potion she'd brewed – tailored specifically to the two of them with their DNA added to it to ensure he wouldn't be able to knock her up. No way was she risking that.

"That mess in potions the other day? The explosion when I caught you picking at my robes?" he asked eyeing the phial with intrigue.

"I needed your DNA," Hermione nodded, "Pinched a stray hair off your robes."

"Don't lie. You pulled it from my head. I know you did," he accused.

"Had to make sure it was definitely yours," Hermione shrugged unrepentantly, "Now drink that or I'm walking away and you're never fucking me again."

He narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance before uncorking the phial and downing it in one. He made a face at the flavour as he handed the phial back to her.

"What are your other rules?" he wanted to know.

"No one _ever_ finds out. No matter what," Hermione told him sternly, "No getting drunk and bragging to your friends. No getting pissy at me and spreading rumours for spite. Which leads me to rule three. And you might not be able to handle this one."

He raised his eyebrows, staring at her expectantly as he tugged his shirt back on and began buttoning it closed.

"For this to work you're going to need to compartmentalize," Hermione informed him, "And by that I mean that you're going to have to separate everything that goes on out there from what happens in here. As in when you're fucking me, who we both are outside of being naked together does not in any way effect what happens between us. And vice versa. You being bound for the Death Eater ranks and me heading for the Order has no bearing. You being the biggest ass-hat in the world in the corridors, docking points from me and my friends and generally being a bastard does not come into play when we fuck. Do you get it?"

"In other words what happens in here stays in here and doesn't affect anything out there," he summarised, nodding his head towards the door.

"Essentially. Meaning that if I expose your dad as being a Death Eater, you don't get to fly off the handle at me in private," Hermione warned him, "And if you become a Death Eater while I'm still shagging you, I don't get to mention it. That type of thing. Basically I'm suggesting that we split who we are and what we have to do out there from who we are and what we're doing in here."

"If you somehow expose my family as being Death Eaters and working for the Dark Lord, do you really believe I'm not going to retaliate against you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows shrewdly.

"Of course not," Hermione told him, "But your retaliation will have to be exacted out there. Meaning that it can have no relation whatsoever to anything from in here. Does that make sense?"

He nodded slowly, though he looked conflicted about that rule.

"What are the other two rules?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No giving even the slightest clue about what we're doing. That means you don't look at me furiously the way you have been for the past two weeks. You don't speak to me in the hallways unless it's about school related stuff or war related stuff or you're slinging insults at me and my friends. You don't just randomly appear and drag me into closets for sex either. You do not have any contact with me, nor I with you, in any way that could be construed as suspicious or in any way that might be seen or heard by other people. Even if you think we're alone in a corridor you only get to be your horrible self and not say anything related to us shagging."

"And just how do you propose to be shagging me if I can't grab you whenever it strikes my fancy?" he asked.

Hermione reached for his arm and lifted it, grabbing his hand and working the Malfoy family crest ring from the middle finger on his right hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning at her and trying to take the ring back from her when she confiscated it.

"Stop it," she slapped his hand away and grabbed her wand, "I'm going to put a charm on this so that we'll be able to contact each other without getting caught."

He raised his eyebrows while Hermione performed the charms.

"It will link with this," she pulled out the silver and opal moon pendant that hung on a fine silver chain around her neck, turning it over to show him the small space on the back where letters could appear, "So that whenever you change the information on the inside of your ring, it will reflect that information on my pendant, and vice versa. Like this."

She showed him the charm, placing the words _sixth floor broom closet_ on the back of her necklace and watching them also appear on the inside of his ring.

"The metal will warm up when there's a new message on it," she told him, "See?"

She handed it back to him before altering the words on the pendant to say _Malfoy stinks!_

He glanced down at the ring as it heated in his hand and the words appeared on the inside of his ring.

"You try it," she commanded, watching him roll his eyes as her choice of words.

He performed the charm and Hermione narrowed her eyes as her pendant heated and the word _Clever mudblood_ appeared on the metal.

"So you get the idea. It doesn't get hot enough to burn, but it will be enough that you'll notice it. Don't go checking to see what it says where anyone can catch you. If you have something to say to me or you're trying to instigate a hook-up, use this with place and time. Don't abuse it either, Malfoy. If you use it just to insult me I'll be instigating rule number five."

"Which is?" he asked, slipping his ring back onto his finger.

"That both of us reserve the right to walk away from this at the end, no hard feelings, no explanations and no repercussions. Understand? So if you lose your temper or decide you're done with shagging me or whatever, walk away and I don't get to say a single word about it. But the same goes for you. If I decide I can't handle you being a Death Eater or being the world biggest git or anything else, I walk away and you don't get to follow. You don't get to demand to know why I'm calling it quits. You don't get to pout about it and you don't get to chase me down and try to change my mind."

"What happened to the bit about what happens out there not effecting what happens in here?" he asked.

"I didn't say I wasn't still going to think you're a tosser or that I wouldn't hex you or try to maim you if you piss me off out there, Malfoy. I'm not asking you to change who you are for the sake of shagging me and I expect the same courtesy from you. You don't get to bitch at me in here about what happens out there. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stand everything you do out there and not decide I'm through shagging you."

"Essentially you're saying that when we fuck, we just fuck. No war. No school. No house rivalry. No blood prejudice. But when we're not literally in the moment of shagging, all those things still apply and they will affect whether or not this arrangement continues?" he clarified.

"That's pretty much it, yes," Hermione nodded, "Look Malfoy, I despise you and I know you loathe me. Having sex isn't going to change that. Basically I'm suggesting we do this until it's out of our systems or until either of us can't handle it anymore. We're on different sides in the war that's about to explode into the school and into our lives. There are a hundred reasons why this is an absolutely stupid thing to do, but we're doing it anyway. I just don't want what happens in here changing anything out there. At the end of this I'm still going to hate your guts and you're still going to think I'm mudblood scum. That's just how it is."

"So say I get branded a Death Eater and I'm still fucking you, what then?" he asked.

"If I'm not horribly repulsed and disgusted, then nothing," Hermione shrugged, "I can hardly go blabbing to anyone about it without incriminating myself. The key here is to make sure no one ever finds out what we've done. Think you can handle that?"

He eyed her shrewdly in silence for several minutes while Hermione stared back at him.

"So if I get a girlfriend out there and use this thing to contact you for sex."

"If you want to cheat on your girlfriend with me that's your business, Malfoy. And if I were to get a boyfriend and still be shagging you that would be my business and would have no bearing on the actual fucking. No blackmailing each other with anything that happens in private. No threatening to tell dates or friends or family members about anything. Nothing. Sex in here and life out there do not meet in any way. Got it?"

"You'd participate when I was cheating on someone?" he asked her.

"You're having trouble with this, aren't you?" Hermione rolled her eyes, "I thought you were supposed to be a conniving and unfeeling Slytherin. Which part aren't you getting? If you want to date Pansy that's got nothing to do with me. If you become a Death Eater or you pick fights with my friends or anything else, that has nothing to do with you and I having sex. Don't get me wrong. If you pick a fight with me or instigate a duel with me out there, I will hex your bollocks off. But if you do all that and then we end up in a broom closet later the same day, I might take my frustration out on you by clawing you harder or fucking you rougher, but it won't affect the fact that I'll be fucking you."

He looked slightly incredulous at her answer and Hermione got the feeling he would test her resolve on the matter.

"You're saying you'll shag me no matter what?" he asked.

"Not at all," Hermione shook her head, "If you do something out there that I can't forgive, I'll walk away and not fuck you again. But if I can handle it or get past it, even if I'm furious, and I still have this itch to scratch with you then I'll keep fucking you."

Malfoy watched her for another long minute in silence as though he couldn't believe his ears.

"You'd make a very interesting Slytherin if you weren't a mudblood," he informed her finally.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and made to exit the broom cupboard but before she could he pressed his hands to the wall on either side of her body, and leaned into her, his lips crashing against hers hungrily. His tongue swept into her mouth, sliding against her tongue sinfully and Hermione felt her toes curl with how good it felt. Before she could sink too deep into the kiss, a thought occurred to her and Hermione pried him off her.

"I forgot to mention something," she told him breathlessly,

"Is it important right now?" he wanted to know, his voice husky and his eyes dark with desire like he wanted to ravish her all over again.

"Yes. You can't abuse this. I have a strict study schedule and I have a lot of responsibilities outside of shagging you," Hermione reminded him, "Meaning that if you contact me seven nights a week, you're going to be left wanting a lot. I'll let you know if I can't make it and I expect the same courtesy from you."

"You have no grasp of spontaneity, do you Granger?" he snorted, his hands fisted in her curls again.

"I'm just warning you that if you're trying to hook up with me when I'm studying, I'm not going to just abandon my study to fuck you," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "I'm a busy person, Malfoy. I'm not just here to cater to your sexual whims."

"You are right now," he retorted before he snogged her again and Hermione closed her eyes as she kissed him back.

She didn't understand the heat and desire that sparked and crackled between the two of them so hotly. She wasn't going to try. She'd decided that during her ponderings of this notion over the holidays. It made no sense whatsoever that she wanted to be shagging him at all, but she did. Nor did it make sense to her why shagging him, snogging him and touching him felt so good, but it did and she was just going to go with it. As long as no one found out and as long as they were both still up for it she would forget about needing to analyse why she was attracted to him sexually and why her body responded to his so well.

For now she was just going to go with it.


	9. Chapter 9: Inquisition

**A/N: WARNING! There be lemons ahead, me hearties!**

* * *

 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Inquisition**

* * *

The witch was barmy. And bloody brilliant. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud. Hell, she'd actually put that big brain to use and thought of a way for them both to actually get away with this. He stumbled towards the Slytherin common rooms well after curfew and round two with Granger in the broom cupboard, skulking past where he spotted Professor Vector patrolling the corridors on the lookout for rowdy students out after hours.

Draco was sure he'd lost his mind, but he was too sated to care.

She'd agreed. The mudblood had actually agreed to fuck him on a regular basis and she'd thought of everything to make sure the chances of being caught were at an absolute minimum. He didn't even want to know how she'd gotten hold of the ingredients she'd needed to brew the contraceptive potion she'd given him to drink. He doubted he'd have been able to brew it effectively either, so he was glad she'd thought of it.

The idea of communicating via his ring was pure genius. No one would notice at all and there would be no note passing or secret conversations to plan a rendezvous. No one would see him hissing into her ear about meeting him on the Astronomy Tower after hours. No one would catch his skulking about the library and trying to get her alone. All he needed was a moment in private to alter the time and place on his ring and she'd be able to meet him.

"Fucking too-smart-for-her-own-good bitch," he muttered under his breath as he let himself back into the Slytherin common room and made for his bed in the dorms below the lake.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Theo hissed when Draco stumbled in.

"Busy," he answered, noting that the room was dark. The clock in the dormitory began to chime and Draco realised it was well after curfew and now the early hours of the morning. He's spent bloody ages shagging Granger.

He was going to have to do some more careful planning, Draco realised as he stripped out of his clothing, suspecting Theo was squinting at him in the dark.

"Busy with who, Draco?" Theo whispered and Draco jumped when he realised his friend had gotten out of bed and come up behind him while he was changing into his pyjamas.

"Is that important?" Draco drawled.

"If she's keeping you out until two in the morning, then yeah, I'd say it is," Theo answered and Draco could tell he was smirking.

"You just want to know so you can trying sweet talking her into fucking you," Draco retorted, giving his friend a shove, "And this time, I'm not sharing."

"I thought we were friends," Theo sniffed dramatically.

"Same bird as before the holidays, Draco?" Zabini asked him from the bed across the room and Draco rolled his eyes, "Is he covered in scratches again, Theo?"

"Not this time, Zabini," Draco smirked to himself.

"Going to tell me who she was then?" Zabini wanted to know.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Draco replied evasively.

"You're serious about not telling us?" Theo asked him, "Since when do you not brag to us who you're shagging?"

"Since I know you bastards will try to shag her too and I don't feel like second-guessing which one of you fucks have been there before me every time I shag her," Draco told them.

"Tired of my sloppy seconds, Draco?" Blaise drawled and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Pretty sure it's the other way around Zabini," Draco retorted, "Now shut up the both of you, you're killing my buzz and I need to sleep. Feel like I've had all my energy drained out through my dick."

Theo snorted at his words.

"I'm going to find out who she is," his best friend warned him, "If she's good enough to tire you out then I've got to know who she is."

"Good luck figuring it out," Draco wished him as he crawled into his bed and pulled the covers up over his head, knowing there was no way they'd ever catch him with Granger.

"Think I'll need it?" Theo asked, "No way is any bird who's shagging you going to keep that to herself for long."

"You'll never find out who she is, Theo," Draco replied tiredly even as his mind began to drift, "This one will take that secret to her grave."

"Now I have to know who it is," Blaise piped up from across the room, "A bird who can keep her trap shut is a very valuable thing, my friends."

Draco smirked to himself over the very idea of them never having a chance of learning it was Granger he'd been shagging. He'd have to be careful about being seen with her to make sure that they didn't follow him, trying to catch him out whenever he met up with her. He might also need to make sure he was caught by them with a few different birds to make sure they were thrown off the scent. The last thing he needed was his friends even suspecting that he was bonking Granger's brains out.

They'd crucify him for sure.

He waited for sleep, thinking that he was going to have to test Granger's rules about not letting anything that happened when he wasn't inside her affect how things panned out when he was. He'd see just how serious she was about the idea of willingly contributing to having him cheat on some bint and about how far he might be able to push her before she'd think about recanting on her rules.

Not that he minded them, if he was being honest. When she'd first brought up the notion of rules, Draco had been sure that she was going to tell him he couldn't be shagging anyone else if he wanted to fuck her and that he had to stop being a dick to her friends or some other rot. He hadn't expected to be told to make certain he acted as he always would've were he not nailing her.

Of course her notions about testing the limits with suggestions about his father's allegiance and what not weren't ideal, but Draco would see how things played out. He doubted she was serious about the idea of continuing to fuck him once he'd taken the Dark Mark. His father had mentioned over the holidays that the Dark Lord was already considering ushering the younger generation into the ranks and he knew that the Mark was in his not so distant future.

Did she really think she'd be able to fuck him when he declared for sure which side of the war he would be on? He knew she was already basically a member of the Order of the Phoenix. As Potter's best friend, she had to be. Not that she wasn't righteous enough to join them either way.

He had been shocked by how clinical she intended to be about shagging him though. He'd always thought that Gryffindors ran exclusively on emotion. It was easier to be reckless and brave, to rush headlong into danger, when you were raging about something or emotionally charged to do something about some injustice. What Granger had shown upstairs - that was all pure clinical thinking and analysis. She'd broken down the notion of casual sex with her enemy and laid plans to keep them from being found out.

She'd demanded that they put aside emotion involved in their day to day lives that pitted them against one another for the simple purpose of uncomplicated, gratifying sex. He could tell she had no intention of allowing herself to develop feelings for him or of letting the sex affect her life in any way. To Hermione Granger he was going to be nothing more than someone to fuck her when she wanted it. No strings. No attachment. No commitment required. Nothing.

Just sex in some broom closet or empty classroom before getting on with her day. And Draco was pretty sure he'd hit the jackpot. What kind of girl was up for that? She wanted nothing from him except pleasure, discretion and the ability to walk away afterwards as though it had never happened. Literally just the scratching of an itch and then getting on with things as though it had never itched to begin with.

Until it itched again.

He was pretty sure that every bloke he knew would kill for that kind of arrangement. She didn't expect him to coddle her emotionally and he doubted very much that she'd be up for snuggling with him or cuddling the way the other girls he fucked all seemed keen on. The last thing he felt like after blowing a nut was having some swot stick her hair in his face and lay all over him. So far Granger had shown no hint of that. She took the pleasure she wanted and then she walked off like he hadn't just blown her mind.

If he was being honest, Draco thought that was pretty fucking hot. All the more so because he still had to work for it. She might've agreed that she was going to fuck him whenever it suited both of them, but he knew he'd still have to work to get what he wanted from her. She wasn't just going to spread her legs and beckon him in. She would still fight him, clawing his back like the hell-cat she was and spitting insults at him whenever she felt like it.

Draco had never imagined he'd be interested in having anyone tell him he was a useless twat she'd gleefully see dead, but somehow things like that rolling of Granger's tongue while he fucked her amused the hell out of him. The witch was bonkers and Draco was more than willing to take advantage of that.

He fell asleep thinking about all the ways he would take advantage of this situation in the future.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

She ignored him for the entire month following their broom cupboard hook-up. He never caught her looking in his direction unless she was glaring while he picked fights with Potter. She never spoke to him. Never sat near him in class or bumped into him in the hallways. She acted as though he hadn't fucked her until she came unglued and Draco couldn't be happier.

He'd tried using his ring to get her to meet him last week, but she'd declined the invitation claiming she had things to do that evening. Which had proved true when Umbridge had sent him and the Inquisitorial Squad after the idiots again, trying to catch them in the act of their little duelling club. He didn't know how they were doing it, but they continued to evade detection. Draco had begun to suspect the other teachers were helping them, but he didn't have proof yet.

He'd let Theo and Blaise catch him fucking Daphne twice since hooking up with Granger and he'd been sure to also seduce one of the sixth year girls in the common room when they threw a party after the Quidditch match that had gotten Potter and the Weasley twins thrown off the Gryffindor team. They'd apparently forgotten about him crawling back to the dorm so late and instead turned their attention to their own studies and their own sexual appetites rather than bothering with his.

Daphne had even commented that it seemed like he was over whatever had bothered him during the holidays and Draco had told her he'd just been out of sorts but the problem had solved itself. He didn't mention it had done so by allowing him to shag Granger. If he was being honest he was itching for another taste of her mouth. He'd managed to draw her into a quick snog two weeks ago after a prefect meeting, but it hadn't gone further than that before she'd pushed him off her and told him she had to be somewhere.

The fact was he'd been busy. The teachers were keeping them all hopping with enough homework to choke a troll and he hadn't really had the time for sneaking out to bang the mudblood. He'd wanted to and he frequently woke up from dreams of her hot little body under him, but he just hadn't had the time. Between homework, Quidditch training, chasing down Umbridge's mess with Potter and studying for the OWLs, he barely had enough energy left to eat, shower and crawl into bed at the end of the day, let alone to be shagging anyone with any kind of frequency.

He was scouring the shelves in the library late on a Friday night when he felt it. Draco almost hissed in shock when the Malfoy signet ring on his finger heated up and he withdrew his hand form the book he'd been reaching for, mistakenly thinking the book had almost burned him before realising it was Granger contacting him. A smirk slipped across his face and Draco glanced around. He knew she was in the library somewhere. He'd seen her a few minutes ago several rows over, searching the shelves for information on Moon Lilies for Sprout.

Not seeing her anywhere, or anyone else nearby, Draco jerked the ring off over his knuckle and read the words inside the band.

 ** _Back left corner. Library. Now._**

Draco smirked, pushing the ring back onto his finger just as quickly. He had his things with him, having intended to grab the books he needed for his essay before finding a quiet desk somewhere to work on it. Putting back the book he'd grabbed, Draco pretended to scour the shelves as though he was searching for something else even as he gravitated towards the very back corner of the library. The air was dusty the further back he went and Draco got the feeling no one ever used this section.

When he reached it, Draco looked around in the dim lighting, trying to spot Granger anywhere. He couldn't see her.

His ring burned again and Draco pulled it off.

 ** _Bookshelf by Goblin War history_** **.**

Draco frowned. Did she think he kept a memorised layout of the library inside his brain? Glancing around and trying to find the markers indicating what section he was in, Draco spotted a plaque on one of the shelves that pointed him in the right direction, and he strolled around the end of the shelf she'd indicated, still not seeing her anywhere.

He was deep inside the library now and Draco didn't think anyone had used this section since the shelves had first been filled. The dust on the books was thick and it was so dark back there that he didn't think the torches even worked in this section of the library. Squinting in the dark, Draco wondered what Granger was playing at. Sure it was deserted, and it made sense that if anyone knew about it, it would be her, but where the hell was she?

He had an essay to work on and he didn't have time for her games.

"Up here, idiot," her disembodied voice whispered quietly and Draco glanced around in confusion, trying to spot her.

He nearly had a heart attack when he looked upwards and found just her head poking out above one of the shelves, hanging upside-down so her wild hair hung towards the top of the shelves.

"Granger?" he asked, squinting at her.

"Go around the end of the row. There's a book sticking out on the next shelf. Stroke your fingers down the spine and you'll be able to get up here," she whispered, "Climb the steps but watch out for the second one from the top. It squeals."

Draco shook his head mutely at her when she smirked at him before her head disappeared as though it had never been there. Doing as she said, Draco found the only book on the entire row whose spine was sticking out slightly. He smoothed his fingers over the spine of the book and twitched in surprise when a small doorway opened in the wall at the very end of the row right by the book. A small spiral staircase led up and away out of the library and he took the stairs carefully.

They were steep and narrow, he had to stand sideways to get his shoulders through without scraping them on the walls. As soon as he was through the door, the wall closed behind him and Draco gritted his teeth, hoping Granger knew how to get down. When he was almost at the top of the steps he skipped the one she'd mentioned, not wanting to risk the noise.

She was sitting on the floor of what appeared to be some little room within the library. He suspected it had once been used as a dormitory or sleeping quarters of some kind for the librarian. It was small, just big enough that a bed and a desk fit inside it. Prison cells were probably larger. She'd hung her head through what appeared to be an air vent that she'd pried the grate off of.

He could tell from a glance at both the bed and the desk that she must use this place a fair bit. The bed was made with fresh sheets and a blanket he suspected she might've knitted herself in a cheerful shade of red. The desk was dust-free and there was a stack of books, an inkwell, a few quills and a few rolls of parchment littering the surface.

"What is this place? Your secret little study nest?" he asked her, frowning at the sight and immediately thinking it was entirely cool and that she was barmy if she thought he wasn't going to be using it.

"It is, actually. Found it in third year," she told him proudly even as she fixed the grate over the air vent before she began casting some spells to be sure no one would overhear them.

"You realise you've just forfeited having this place to yourself, right?" he drawled, dropping his bag by the stairs and eyeing her hungrily.

"I'll change the password so you can't get in without me telling you how," she shrugged her shoulders as though it didn't matter to her. Draco watched her get off the floor and dust herself off.

She'd changed out of her school uniform – risking Umbridge's wrath – and wore a pair of muggle jeans and a pink zip-up jumper with a hood.

"You think that will keep me out?" he challenged, annoyed by her words even as she stalked closer to him. The room was small enough that two strides brought her to him and she stared up at him wickedly for a minute.

She didn't mention that she was furious with him over getting Potter and the Weasley twins thrown off the Quidditch team. She didn't comment on the fact that he'd been seen snogging a sixth year girl at the after-party following the match. She didn't comment on what a rotten bastard he'd been to her and her friends during the month since their last shag.

Instead she went up on her toes – and Draco noticed she wasn't wearing shoes – before she cupped his jaw in her hands and snogged him soundly on the lips.

Fuck a troll, it felt like she'd just hexed his dick with the way it jumped to attention.

She didn't mess around with him either. As soon as he had his hands on her arse, holding her close to him to better grind himself against her, Draco felt her hot little hands unbuttoning his jacket and his shirt. Draco returned the favour eagerly, intent on getting her completely naked this time as he hadn't done last time. The rasp of the zip on her jumper made her quiver and Draco peeled her out of her shirt and the singlet she wore under it.

"Do you ever not wear fifty layers of clothing?" he growled when he encountered a camisole under everything else.

"Don't talk," she replied and Draco might've smirked just a little as she peeled his clothing off him too, kissing his neck in between being stripped of her many layers of shirts. Her nails dug into his lower back as she ground him against herself again while Draco walked her backwards toward the bed in the corner of the room, intent on fucking her on it.

The jingle of his belt turned him on all the more as she went for it without hesitation, not at all seeming shy or unwilling. Gods he liked that. Even when he fucked Daphne, he usually had to do most of the stripping himself since she never wanted to seem too eager or too forward.

Granger, on the other hand, didn't give a rat's arse if she seemed eager. She got his belt undone and was working on the fly of his trousers before he even managed to unhook her bra. She made a sound of impatience when he dragged the garment down her arms, interrupting her attempts to rid him of his trousers while Draco kicked off his shoes. He found himself smirking against her mouth when she snogged him again even as he toppled her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her.

He pinned her beneath him and she arched into his touch when he kissed his way down her neck and over her chest, his hands moving to torment her soft breasts. She hissed at how cold his hands were, her nipples pebbling immediately and Draco chuckled before he drew one of them into his mouth.

"Oh God," she moaned softly, arching under him again and making Draco crazy. He drew the pebbled peak into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and suckling hard enough to make her gasp and writhe under him. One hand tormented her other nipple while she fisted his hair and his free hand worked on the buttons of her jeans.

Merlin she tasted sweet. The Pepper Imp taste of her mouth lingered on his tongue as he moved to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first and enjoying the way she mewled like a needy kitten. Fuck he liked how responsive she was under him. Her nails clawed at his shoulders, digging in and urging him on, making him crazy. If she was self-conscious she certainly didn't show it, arching under him again as he used both hands to try and pry her jeans off her.

She made another noise of impatient protest when he slid off the end of the bed to better relieve her of her jeans and as soon as she was free of them she sat up, reaching for his pants again and getting them undone enough to flick them off him until he wore only his boxers. She was reaching for those too, but Draco wasn't done tormenting her yet. Curling both hands around her jaw he snogged her hard, kneeling on the bed between her spread legs and pressing her back down onto the mattress beneath him.

He kissed her hungrily, his tongue diving into her mouth, chasing another taste of that Pepper Imp flavour of her tongue while his head swam with the cinnamon scent of her skin. Sweet Salazar, but the witch was addictive! He dreamed about that scent and he'd developed an unhealthy infatuation with cinnamon in general – so much so that he now added it to his hot chocolate on a daily basis.

Her hands clutched greedily at his back, pulling him down more firmly on top of her and Draco's eyes crossed behind his closed lids when she arched again, grinding her pelvis against his. His heart was racing inside his chest and Draco was fairly certain he was going to lose it if he didn't get inside her soon. She kissed so hotly that it burned with sweet fire.

Draco groaned when she kissed the length of his jaw and nipped her way down the side of his neck, her hands attempting to pry his boxers off him again. She sucked at the side of his neck hard enough that he knew he'd have a love-bite but Draco didn't care. Kissing her neck and chest in return, he worked his mouth back down until he could torment her nipples with his tongue.

She hissed between her teeth when he grazed his hands over her ribcage, protesting how cold they were and squirming slightly as though she were ticklish. He smirked to himself, storing the knowledge away for later while he continued to kiss and lick his way down her body, over her ribs and her taut stomach, enjoying the silky smooth feel of her skin. He peeled her out of her simple blue cotton knickers as he kissed his way lower and Granger made another noise of protest, glaring at him when he stopped to stare down at her.

Entirely naked she lay on the bed before him and Draco's cock throbbed painfully. Salazar's rod she looked good laid out beneath him, wet and hungry for him to fill her up.

"Staring is rude," she informed him, not making any move to hide from his gaze. Draco smirked at her, realising that he'd been right about her lack of self-consciousness. Out in the hallways she might skulk about hiding behind her hair and all those layers but in the bedroom the little witch had no qualms about letting him see her naked form. Her legs were long and silky smooth. Her skin tanned ever so slightly with a sun-kissed glow despite being the end of winter.

She was slender and petite, her ribs and her collarbones visible beneath her smooth flesh. Her breasts were small, but not disproportionate to the rest of her. When he smoothed his hands over her bony hips and her stomach she arched into the touch, clearly not shy about showing that she wanted him to touch her even more. Smirking to himself, Draco leaned back into her and he heard her breath hitch as he crawled between her thighs, nudging them apart with his shoulders as he peppered her taut stomach with licks and kisses.

"I'm going to taste you," he warned her quietly, wanting to make sure she didn't object. He might enjoy the way she fought and writhed when he snogged her, but he didn't actually want to force her to do anything she wasn't uncomfortable with.

She shifted slightly on the bed, spreading her legs a little wider but she voiced no protests. When he smoothed his hands up her thighs, prying them further apart and dipped his mouth towards the junction of her thighs she mewled softly. Draco found himself wondering how many times she'd done this that she didn't feel self-conscious or nervous about it. How many other blokes had she let between her legs? How many of them had tasted her salty-sweet flavour.

Using his fingers to peel her pink petals apart, Draco stared at her most intimate place for a long moment. She clearly practiced personal grooming because the entire area was bare of soft curls except for a neatly trimmed patch at the top that she seemed to have styled into the shape of a… was that a tree?

"Is this…?" he asked, unable to help himself.

"It's a Christmas tree," she informed him impatiently, "Get on with it, Malfoy."

Draco snorted, amused by the notion that the little witch got so into the spirit that she'd even styled her pubes to match the festive season. Dipping his mouth to her flesh, Draco forgot all about the style of her short and curlies when he had his first taste of her sweet nectar. She arched under him almost immediately, moaning softly and fisting the blankets on the bed beneath her as he licked a wet line against her slick slit.

Fuck a troll.

He didn't usually much like the taste of a girl's snatch. Salty and tangy, he wasn't much of a fan but even her pussy tasted like that sweet cinnamon flavour that lingered on the rest of her skin. Burying his mouth against her, Draco dipped his tongue inside her for another taste and Granger cried out again, arching against him. He had to pin her thighs to the bed to keep her from snapping them closed around his face when he lapped at her hungrily before sucking her clit into his mouth.

He'd been tutored over the holidays all about how to make a witch scream using just his tongue and Draco was only too eager to put what he'd learned to use.

"Fuck," Granger cursed softly as he nipped her sweet lips and drew her clit into his mouth again.

Draco found himself smirking at how foul her mouth was when she was being pleasured by him. He never heard her swear when she wasn't alone with him. Even when they got into duels in the corridors or when her friends drove her bonkers, she didn't curse. But she cursed like a foul mouthed pirate when he dipped his tongue inside her again. She fisted her hands in his hair and Draco could tell she wasn't sure if she wanted to rip his mouth away from her or to pull him closer and have him eat her out until she died from the pleasure of it

When she began to pant, her body beginning to shudder and quiver beneath him, Draco slipped two fingers into her tight sheath and worked her over with them while he sucked hard on her clit until she broke in his hold. A low whine accompanied her curses as she whispered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," three times.

He was beginning to think that she didn't even do it on purpose but that was definitely the way he knew she was coming. She pulled on his hair harder as she came back down, tugging him up her body. Draco knew what she wanted and his cock was throbbing and aching to give it to her, but he took his time nonetheless, pausing to lave both her breasts with his tongue before he kissed his way back up her neck, leaving a dark purple love-bite on her throat as he went.

"Bloody hell," he groaned when she gripped his cock in her hot little hand the minute she could reach it, pumping her hand up and down its length tightly and making his eyes cross with need.

She turned her head away when he tried to snog her again and Draco couldn't tell if it was because she didn't want to taste herself on his lips or because she was trying to see enough to guide his cock inside her. Draco didn't much care when she was working him over like that. As soon as he felt them aligned he drove into her, relishing the strangled cry he drew from her lips while he groaned into her hair.

Fuck she was tight.

Withdrawing quickly, Draco drove into her again, filling her up until he was fully sheathed inside her.

"More," she whispered, bucking her hips under him and Draco smirked against her neck, giving her what she asked for. He hammered into her fast and hard, diving deep before withdrawing again and again.

Her nails cut him to ribbons, slicing in hard enough that he suspected she might be drawing blood but he was too far gone to care. When she flipped them both, surprising the hell out of him, Draco suddenly found himself on his back and staring up at the little witch. Her hair was a wild nest of curls and her cheeks were flushed pink with exertion as she began to ride him.

Smirking, Draco curled both arms back to rest his hands behind his head as he watched her bouncing up and down on his cock. She tipped her head back as she rode him, her hot little hands pressed to his chest to better balance, her body rising and falling as she slid up and down the hard length of his cock.

"Fuck, Granger," Draco hissed between his teeth when the sight she made nearly brought him undone.

If she heard him, she didn't show it. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back and her attention focused entirely on chasing her own pleasure. Draco had never felt so used for his body in all his life and it disturbed him how much he liked it. She took what she wanted from him without making apologies or showing any concern for what he might think of her while she did it.

When she twisted slightly, moving her hands from his chest to his thighs and changing the angle he drove up into her, Draco bucked his hips. It stung just a bit as she leaned back so far, sliding up his length and mewling when she slipped back down, driving him against the special spot inside her that he knew would bring her undone. Unable to resist, Draco gripped her hips then, lifting her before jerking her back down hard as he drove his hips up underneath her.

She cried out as he did so, her breathing ragged and Draco's whole body strained with the effort it took not to lose it all inside her before she broke. Pistoning his hips, Draco brutally drove up into her again, his hands gripping her hips tight enough to bruise but she didn't seem to care. When she tensed in his hold, bouncing even faster, Draco knew she was close. Unable to hold out much longer he moved his hand to her clit, pressing his thumb against it like an explode button and watching her shatter.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" she squealed as she came hard.

Black spots danced in his eyes as Draco felt her walls clamp down on him tighter than a fist, squeezing him and milking every drop of pleasure from him so hard it almost hurt. He groaned as he caught her hips again, holding her in place as he filled her up with his come. Draco felt like his heart was going to give out it hammered so hard inside his chest and he caught her against his chest when she slumped forward bonelessly until she was sprawled across him, his cock still deep inside her.

He didn't even think about it as he shoved at her knees until she was lying on top of him and he curled one arm up around her back, holding her in place as he panted, trying to get his wits back enough for coherent thought of any kind. Salazar's rod he felt like she'd turned him into some brain-dead idiot.

She laid her cheek against his chest, her breath huffing in little pants as she came down from the high too and Draco twisted his free hand into her curly hair. He'd be lying if he said the curls didn't fascinate him. He dreamed about tangling his fingers in the riotous corkscrews more often that he cared to admit.

Fuck he could sleep. Even with the little mudblood sprawled across his chest, Draco felt like he could sleep for a week. And he couldn't afford to. He had an essay he was meant to be working on and there was no way he was going to be able to focus on it now.

She'd fucked the sense right out of him.


	10. Chapter 10: Angry Words

**A/N: Hello darlings! Sorry about the wait. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews you've been giving me. It's very sweet of you. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much love! xx-Kitten.**

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 **Don't You Dare**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 10: Angry Words**

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Hermione sprawled across him after what might just have been the best shag of her young life trying to get herself back together and to work up the energy to get off him. She had a swath of homework she needed to get done tonight. She was also thinking that she needed to instigate another rule about no cuddling.

He'd curled his arm around her back and pulled her down on top of him, his free hand tangled in her hair and it felt entirely too nice for her thinking. She had to remind herself sternly that this was an arrangement for sex only. Not for cuddling.

"Let go," she muttered when she tried to crawl off him in search of her wand and found that he didn't seem interested in releasing her just yet.

"Shut up, Granger," he retorted, sounding tired.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and lifted herself off him more vigorously, freeing his softening cock from inside her and wriggling out from under the arm he'd wrapped around her. She clambered to one side of him, his hand still fisted in her locks while she reached for the wand she'd abandoned by the pillows.

When she reached it, Hermione began muttering cleaning charms.

He didn't seem interested in releasing her hair even as she sat up and Hermione reached up, untangling his hand from inside her hair in annoyance, gripping his wrist tightly to keep him from pulling at her curls until they stung.

He snorted quietly when she flung the freed appendage at him before going in search of her knickers.

"Get up," she nudged him, tossing his boxers at him when she located them before wriggling into her blue knickers once more. Her bra was across the room and Hermione scuttled towards it.

"Where's my belt?" he asked her, sitting up slowly and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed.

Hermione turned to look at him wearing only her bra and her knickers.

He had a love bite on his neck and some claw marks on his chest. She knew if he turned he'd have even more of them on his back.

"Over there," she pointed when she spotted it over by his bag. The entire room was a shambles of discarded clothing and Hermione smirked to herself as she reached her arms over her head, stretching her muscles deliciously and enjoying the burn in them after the exertion she'd just put them through.

She felt good. She'd been irritable for days and Hermione had thought that she was just getting a bit of PMS before consulting her calendar and realising she'd already dealt with PMS this month. When she'd realised that, she'd begun to suspect she just needed to get laid. Harry had jumped down her throat earlier that afternoon about something and when she'd spotted Malfoy in the library she'd begun to smirk as the idea occurred to her.

"Don't do that if you want me to leave, witch," he warned her quietly and Hermione paused mid-stretch to glance at him.

He watched her from the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his stormy grey eyes fixed on her hungrily as she stretched up on her toes, her arms reaching for the roof and pulling her body taut.

"Turning you on again, Malfoy?" Hermione smirked at him, realising that she was.

He smirked in return, apparently not above admitting that she made him horny.

"Too bad," Hermione teased, "I have homework to do. So scram."

He snorted at her words and Hermione was mildly surprised by the genuine-looking smile he wore. Hermione bent and tossed him his shirt, not even joking about needing him to go. She really did have an essay she needed to get written tonight as well as revision for the entire week to work on.

"How often do you use this room?" he asked her as he caught his shirt and began pulling it on, standing to begin dressing himself again. Hermione wriggled into her camisole and her shirt before seeking out her jeans – which she found in a crumpled pile at the end of the bed.

"Almost every day," Hermione shrugged, "No one disturbs my study up here and it means that if anyone comes looking for me when I don't want to be interrupted, I can't be found."

"So no one else knows about it?" he clarified and Hermione noted the way he was eyeing the room with interest, including the study timetable she had spell-o-taped to the wall above the desk.

"Only you," Hermione admitted, "So you better not tell anyone or show anyone. Or I'll kill you. Not even Pince knows about this place. Or if she does, she never checks it to make sure there's no one using it"

"You sleep in here sometimes, don't you Granger?" Malfoy asked her as he pulled his trousers back on.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Hermione frowned, not understanding why he was asking her questions or why he was talking to her at all. This was an arrangement for sex. Not for chatting.

"Just wondering how often you hide out in here," he shrugged his shoulders, "Don't Potty and Weaselbee ever wonder where you are?"

"They don't know it exists and they never check the entire library when they look for me," Hermione frowned at him further as she found her jumper and pulled it back on, "And if you knew what it was like to share a dormitory with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, you'd understand why sometimes I prefer to stay here and not have to deal with them."

Malfoy nodded, looking thoughtful as he buckled his belt before finding his shoes and sitting back on the edge of the bed to pull them on.

Hermione – now dressed – made for the desk, intending to sit down so she could get on with the study she hadn't been able to focus on when she'd been itching for a good shag earlier that afternoon. She was acutely aware that Malfoy was still behind her as he pulled his shoes on.

"You're doing homework now?" he asked, sounding annoyed by the idea.

"I have an essay to write," Hermione shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at him and jumping slightly when she realised he'd come up right behind her chair.

He was staring hard at the copy of her study timetable that she'd spell-o-taped to the wall in front of her. She had a strict schedule and she liked to keep to it. She'd been distracted enough by her libido for one night and now she needed to get back to it.

"No bloody wonder you're still top of the class," she heard him grumble, "You don't have any time on this thing for anything but classes, meals and studying. What are these? DA? What does that means? Defence study?"

"Malfoy," Hermione interrupted him, her blood running cold as she realised that he might work out what DA actually was, "Maybe I wasn't clear about the rules for this arrangement, but I'm fairly sure one of them was that once we're done things go back to normal. Meaning you can go back to not speaking to me, looking at me or annoying me with your questions."

"Is this your less than polite way of suggesting I sod off, Granger?" he smirked and Hermione caught the way he met her gaze for a moment as though the idea amused him.

"I can't be even less polite if you really need me to dumb it down for you, Malfoy," Hermione smiled coldly.

"Aren't witches supposed to be less grumpy after they've been laid? Or do you need me to fuck you again to improve your mood?" he retorted, not at all offended by her comment and seeming to take pleasure from the way they snapped at each other.

"I need you to sod off so I can work on my essay. I expect you have the same one due, so would you just go?" Hermione growled at him.

She hissed between her teeth when he tangled one hand tightly in the hair at the back of her head, using the grip to force her head backwards until she was staring at the ceiling. When he bent forwards and planted a hot but brief snog on her lips Hermione's eyes crossed in a combination of pleasure and annoyance. She wondered how anyone could make her so needy and so angry at the same time.

He pulled away several minutes later, gracing her with a rakish smirk before he left her little study nest without another word. He was even careful enough to avoid the trick step on the way down. Hermione shook her head to herself, both to clear it thanks to his daze-inducing snog and also in annoyance with him. She heard the softest of clicks when he exited the door at the bottom of the staircase, and then he was gone, leaving her in peace to complete her essay.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

She was being followed. Stalked, even. Hermione was sure of it. And she'd been being followed for almost twenty minutes now. She'd taken several secret passageways as she tried to lose her pursuer and nothing seemed to be working. First she'd tried making it look like she was going to the library to study and she had managed to locate several books she needed to complete their most recent homework.

Hermione was certain it was members of the Inquisitorial Squad following her. She was supposed to be on her way to a DA meeting and it wasn't going well. She also happened to know she wasn't the only person who was being tailed. She knew because about ten minutes ago she'd run into Seamus in one of the secret passageways and he'd hissed at her that he'd been being followed all afternoon by Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass at sporadic intervals.

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione ducked behind the nearest statue after skidding around a corner. She could hear rapid footsteps racing after her and she watched as what appeared to be one of the Slytherin boys from the lower years – perhaps a third year – raced into the corridor and immediately began searching it for her. The boy wasn't the only one following her. A sixth year girl had tailed her into the girl's bathrooms when she'd been trying to lose one of the others tailing her.

She had a feeling she knew what they were up to. Malfoy had caught a glimpse of her timetable for when the DA meetings were being held and he'd clearly figured out what the slot was filled with, even if he didn't know the acronym. He'd convened with the others who were spying for Umbridge and they were more determined than ever to catch them all in the act and figure out what they were up to.

Hermione supposed they'd brought it on themselves. Just that very morning the story in the Quibbler about Harry's encounter in the graveyard with Voldemort last year had been released. He'd named a number of well-known pureblood families as being in league with Voldemort and most of the children of those Death Eaters had been tailing her and her friends all afternoon. The majority of people in Slytherin house, in fact, had been indicted as being part of Death Eater families.

They were out for blood and Hermione didn't doubt that if they could get away with hexing the lot of them, they would do it. She'd caught a glimpse of Malfoy across the hall that very day at lunch and he'd looked positively livid. He'd been glaring at Harry, Ron and Hermione herself. She could tell from the look on his face that it was taking most of his energy to keep from getting up right then and there to begin a duel in the name of his father's honour.

When she'd been in Charms that afternoon he had even gotten slightly violent with Harry and Ron, driving his shoulder into Ron's and causing Ron to knock into some desks, accidentally knocking Hermione to the floor in the process. Harry had been about to hex the git but Professor Flitwick had interrupted them all by beginning the class.

Malfoy was clearly behind this mess of everyone being tailed and she'd bet he was frothy with rage too.

Shooting a stunning spell at the third year boy who'd been following her, Hermione watched the younger boy slump ungracefully to the ground. He looked like a Macnair. Ducking out from her hiding place, Hermione crossed to him quickly. He hadn't hit his head or anything too horrible and so Hermione didn't feel too bad about the attack. Dragging him across the floor, Hermione propped him against a wall out of the way where no one was likely to come across him and rouse the alarm.

When she was done she stood quickly, toting her bag on her shoulder and straightening her skirt before making a run for the seventh floor.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, hurrying up the fifth floor corridor as she was about to race up the staircase.

"Are you being followed too?" she asked him without preamble when she lowered her wand, having reflexively jerked it up in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, I just shoved Goyle into a broom cupboard and ran for it. He and Malfoy were tailing me for ages. We're late for the meeting," Harry nodded, "You're being followed too?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "I had to stun the younger boy of Macnair and I tricked that girl of Pucey from sixth year into thinking I was still in the library. I ran into Seamus in one of the secret passages up from the second floor and he said he's being followed too, by Nott and Greengrass. Ron's supposed to be on his way back from Quidditch practice too and I haven't seen him even though I feel like I've crossed half the castle trying to lose these idiots."

"What are they doing?" Harry asked, "Not all of those people are from families I named in the article. Why are they following us around like this?"

"I think they're working for Malfoy," Hermione admitted, "After the story today I imagine Malfoy and his goons are furious. They've been trying to catch us in the act of getting to or from the DA for months. I suppose they figure one of us will eventually lead them there if they tail us long enough. I hope the others are as observant as you and Seamus have been. I shudder to think of Neville or someone leading these idiots into the Room of Requirement."

"It won't open for that without one of us already inside, you know that," Harry reminded her, "And even if they could turn it into the training hall, it wouldn't because it won't open if they're being followed. I imagine the person following them will have to be close enough to catch them. The room would pick up on their need to catch their target more than any DA member's need to get into the room since they think we're already inside and waiting. I thought Goyle just wanted to have a go at me for naming his father in the article. He tried to hex me and when I disarmed him, he tried to punch me."

"Did he hurt you?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

"No," Harry shook his head and chuckling as though it had been good fun to duel with the thick-headed Slytherin, "I'm used to dealing with my cousin Dudley in that regard. Side-stepped and made him miss before kicking him into the cupboard and locking him inside it."

"Your cousin hits you? Harry why haven't you ever told me that before now?" Hermione asked, frowning at him in concern.

"It's not really important, Hermione," Harry laughed at her concerned expression, "How are we going to hold the meeting if no one can escape their pursuers?"

"We're not," Hermione decided suddenly, pulling out her coin and beginning to alter the dates on it, "We'll change it to tomorrow night instead. If not everyone can make it, so be it. I'd rather cancel tonight's meeting than have us all get caught by Umbridge or her ridiculous Inquisitorial Squad. We cancel the meeting for tonight and everyone can meet in our common room. They'll complain about it interfering with their other plans, but detention for the rest of the year would be more interference with those plans, I think."

"Damn it, I was really looking forward to tonight," Harry sighed, "Missing Quidditch because I'm off the team sucks. DA's the only good thing still worth doing in the bloody place with that toad running around."

"I know," Hermione patted his arm comfortingly, "But we don't want to let that rotten old toad take DA away from us too. Come on. Let's head back to the common room. Almost everyone will be there. Oh! Hello, Luna."

"Hello Hermione. Harry. Have you noticed an alarming amount of Nargles about today?" the vague blonde Ravenclaw girl asked them.

"Um…" Harry darted a glance at Hermione.

"You think you're being followed too?" Hermione asked the girl.

"Yes!" Luna cried, "I knew it. Nargles again!"

"It's not just Nargles Luna," Hermione told the girl, choosing to avoid outright telling her that she was barmy and nargles had yet to be proven as existing, "The Inquisitorial Squad has been tailing anyone suspected of being a DA member, trying to catch us after the article today."

"Oh. Wasn't it wonderful? Daddy told me they're doing a third tonight re-print because the story is so popular," Luna told them, "I got your message too, Hermione. Tomorrow night works fine for me."

"You want to come sit with us in Gryffindor Tower, Luna?" Harry offered, grinning at the younger blonde girl and looking amused by her antics and pleased by her enthusiasm about the story in the Quibbler.

"Oh… That might be nice," she nodded before linking her elbow with Harry's and beginning to wander towards the seventh floor along with them.

As they went, more and more people from the DA met up with them, most of them being conspicuously tailed by Slytherins by this point. Hermione could tell the fools thought they were getting close to catching them in the act and she spotted Malfoy among the gathered Slytherins lurking in the corridors behind them.

Unable to resist taunting them all, Hermione turned when they reached the Portrait Hole and smirked coldly at them.

"Well, it was an amusing effort, I must say," she taunted, her eyes fixed on Malfoy, "It's just too bad about all those terrible incidents befalling members of your little gang tonight, wouldn't you agree? It's almost like… oh, I don't know… a prelude to the fate of all who choose the _wrong_ side."

Malfoy curled his lip at her hatefully but before he could say anything, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team appeared at the end of the hall.

"Oi, what are all you losers doing near Gryffindor Tower?" Ron wanted to know.

"They're following us all Ron," Harry grinned at his friend.

"Why?" Ron asked, raising one eyebrow, "What is it Nott? Fancy Harry or something do you? Malfoy, I already knew you fancy him."

The Slytherins all began to hiss denials and snarl like they were going to hex the lot of them. Hermione raised her wand and disarmed Crabbe before he could fire a hex at Ron's back. She watched the way Ron swaggered down the hall leading the team, his broom balanced on one shoulder and a mischievous grin on his face.

"Tsk tsk, Crabbe," Hermione clucked her tongue at the boy disapprovingly when he was thrown back with a slight bang instead of relinquishing his wand, "Maybe you lot ought to focus more effort towards learning shield charms and the like. Imagine, being bested by a muggle-born. What would Daddy have to say?"

"Oh don't worry Hermione," Ron grinned, "None their Daddies will have anything to say about it because they're all being carted off to Azkaban tonight."

"The Death Eaters have been arrested already?" Harry asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up, "That's the best bloody news I've heard all day."

"At least we still have parents, Potter," Theodore Nott sneered at them, curling his lip at Potter.

"For how long though?" Harry retorted, refusing to rise to the bait, "You know I've always wondered, purebloods like your families all seem to go on and on about their own superiority over everyone. Why is it then that they're all so willing to bow down and serve a mad-man? A half-blood, no less. The half-blood son of a blood traitor who had to use Amortentia to even get a muggle man to like her."

"That's a lie!" one of the Slytherins shouted.

"You dare insult the Dark Lord?" Malfoy snarled.

"Oh already 'The Dark Lord' to you, is he Malfoy?" Ron challenged, "Daddy dearest is already priming you to bend over and let that twisted git fuck you too, eh?"

"Don't you dare talk about things you don't understand, you filthy blood traitor," Daphne Greengrass piped up in defence of Malfoy, whose face was now mottled with rage.

"Don't understand?" Harry scoffed, beginning to actually laugh at their fury, "Of everyone here, I'd say I probably understand best what it's like to be in Voldemort's presence."

All the Slytherins hissed and some of the girls shrieked, jerking and shuddering uncomfortably at Harry's use of the name.

"You think you understand what you're getting into?" Harry challenged, advancing towards the furious children of Death Eaters, "You think that just because you fathers all rush out of the house in black robes and face-masks that they're just meeting and wreaking a little havoc? Is that it? It's funny to the likes of you lot right now to torment others. You find it amusing to pick on muggleborns for something they can't help being. You sneer at people you deem as traitors to their own blood. Do you actually believe that's what your parents do too?"

Hermione and Ron advanced alongside Harry as his tone grew more and more deadly, his eyes narrowed hatefully.

"Do you think they put on masks and do something stupid for a bit of a laugh, like levitating unsuspecting muggles over a crowd for a joke? Is that what you think it means to work for Voldemort?" Harry went on, "Well I can tell you, you're wrong. Your fathers don those masks and they go out into the world to murder people. Children. Teenagers. Women. Men. They go out and they slaughter the innocent on the orders of a madman and for what? It's not like it buys them any additional social standing outside of the circle of Death Eaters. It's not as though any of your families need money and are recompensed for their service. They willingly commit murder. They torture. They rape. They brutalise others. And for what?"

Hermione felt sick at the picture Harry was painting for them.

"All because their 'Lord' told them too?" Harry asked, "Do they actually believe that they're going to create a world where families who commit heinous crimes in the name of blood prejudice will come out on top? Do they think they're going to rule the magical world? If they had their way and they could slaughter anyone not of the pure, non-traitorous bloodlines, do you know what would be left of the magical world?"

"Us," Malfoy smirked, "We'd be left."

"For how long, Malfoy?" Harry asked him, "When there are no more targets like muggleborns and half-bloods, when there are no more blood traitors, how long do you think it will take before your precious 'Dark Lord' turns on you?"

"The Dark Lords rewards those in his service, Potter," Malfoy argued.

"Does he?" Harry snorted, "Funny, when your father was on the ground writhing in agony for not searching for Voldemort after his defeat fourteen years ago, it didn't look much like a reward to me, Malfoy. When Crabbe Senior was screaming and messing himself under the influence of the Cruciatus curse, it didn't look like a reward to be in Voldemort's service. When I watched Pettigrew cower and whimper and cry after _severing his own hand_ on Voldemort's orders, made to wait more than an hour while Voldemort chatted and punished the others, do you think he thought he was being rewarded? Was it a privilege, do you think, that he got to cripple himself for the rest of his miserable life just to please his sociopathic boss?"

Hermione shuddered at the very idea, watching Harry stand practically toe-to-toe with Malfoy. Crabbe was eyeballing Ron dangerously and Hermione narrowed her eyes on Nott and Greengrass, her wand aimed at them and ready to attack or to defend herself and her friends if the need arose.

"So rather than stalking us through the halls, why don't you crawl back into your little holes in the floor and think about that? Are you willing to cut your hand off for someone you've never even met? Are you willing to murder innocent people for no reason at all but because someone tells you that you should? When you next go home to see your parents – if they ever get out of prison, that is – you take a long hard look at them. When you're sitting at your dining room tables listening to your mother and father converse, you think about the fact that when he's not there with you, he's out raping some poor woman for sport. He's out slaughtering children; torturing people your age or even young than you. People you go to school with. People you might've been friends with if you weren't all such pompous arseholes. When he touches you, you think about the number of people who have suffered at his hands. And when you're done thinking about all that, if you haven't vomited your dinner all over your fucking plate, then I recommend you do the rest of the world a favour and kill yourself, because we don't want the likes of people who can be alright with that type of thing."

With that said, Harry spun on his heel, turning his back on Malfoy and the other Slytherins before stalking back towards the portrait hole.

Hermione's gaze darted over the shocked and horrified and furious faces of her classmates and her peers. She noted the way Daphne Greengrass's bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. She noticed the way Theodore Nott clenched his fists in an attempt to make them stop shaking. She watched the way Crabbe gritted his teeth so hard that a muscle in his jaw ticked angrily. Most of all, she watch Malfoy. His pale face looked a little paler than usual and he still looked angry. He looked a little bit floored too, by Harry's utter surety of what it was really like to be in Voldemort's presence. Of what his followers endured. Of what they did and what they were expected to do if they wanted to avoid further punishment.

Most of all, he looked like he wanted to hex Harry from behind for continuing to indict his father's character and for challenging everything he'd been raised to believe and everything he'd been taught was the truth.

"Go back to the dungeons, you lot," Angelina Johnston ordered them, "We've had enough of you standing around here."

The rest of the Gryffindors – most of the Common Room seemed to have emptied into the hallway outside the Fat Lady's Portrait to listen to Harry's words and potentially witness a brawl – began to disperse, clearing a path to let Harry through and following him into Gryffindor Tower like he was some kind of pied-piper for Gryffindors. Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly on the Slytherin students when they continued to stand there, shocked and surprised and angry. Hermione met Malfoy's gaze for a minute in silence before raising her eyebrows challengingly and flicking her wand arm in the direction of the staircase at the end of the hall. Some of the younger students began to move off in that direction, recognising that the fight was temporarily over.

Malfoy glared at her in return but Hermione watched the way he raked his grey-eyed gaze over her. To everyone else it undoubtedly looked like the disapproving, disgusted and hateful stare he so often raked over her as he judged her for her blood and called her scum. She didn't think anyone else would have noticed the way his eyes lingered a bit too long on the necklace she wore or on the undone top-button of her blouse. She didn't think even his friends would have noticed the slightly less hostile way he looked at her.

When he jerked his head sharply at his friends and began to walk away, muttering darkly to Theodore Nott and to Crabbe, Hermione found herself wondering how much of Harry's speech might've penetrated his stubborn head. How much of Harry's imagery had played behind his eyes? Would it make any difference in the big scheme of things as to whether Malfoy went on with his hatred of mudbloods and half-bloods and blood traitors? Would he still blindly follow his father's teachings until he too bore the Dark Mark burned into the pale flesh of his forearm? Would he even consider changing his opinions or his allegiance?

She supposed it was rather telling that even despite the number of times she'd snogged him and the fact that she'd been secretly shagging him, she had no idea what the answer to any of her unspoken questions would be.


End file.
